Star Wars: Redemption of the Exiles
by LaneWinree51
Summary: His piloting career in shambles, Darvix Zorvan leaves the military to study as a Jedi under Master Luke Skywalker. There, he learns of his frightening connection to the Jedi Exiles of the Old Republic. Sequel to X-Wing: Rise of a Rogue.
1. Introduction and Dramatis Personae

**Star Wars: Redemption of the Exiles**

_Part Two of Three of the "Dap Zorvan" series_

**Update Schedule:** Every Monday-Friday there will be a new chapter uploaded

**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own Star Wars. Wish I did, though. The Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas. The Knights of the Old Republic plotlines belong to Lucasarts, Bioware, and Obsidian. Characters appearing in this fic but not belonging to myself or George Lucas are property of Michael A. Stackpole, Aaron Allston, and Timothy Zahn.

**A Note From the Author: **This fic is the sequel to X-Wing: Rise of a Rogue (Visit my profile for a link to the fic) and is a continuation of the story arc surrounding original character Darvix Zorvan.

Redemption of the Exiles is a Jedi-centric tale that focuses on the storylines brought up in the Knights of the Old Republic video games and comics. This fic is an adventure that aims to explain what happened to Darth Revan and the Jedi Exile by uncovering clues hidden for nearly four thousand years.

**Dramatis Personae**

_Crew of the "Tatooine Gallows"  
_Jedi Master Darvix "Dap" Zorvan (Captain)  
Jedi Knight Kasari Lisae (First Officer)  
Vikan "Vik" Kelrune (Astrogation)  
Zone (Darvix's R2 unit)

_With the Jedi Academy_  
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker  
Jedi Master Kyle Katarn  
Jedi Knight Corran Horn

_With the New Republic_  
General Wedge Antilles (Rogue Squadron CO)

_Smugglers_  
Talon Karrde (Captain of the Wild Karrde)  
Booster Terrik (Captain of the Errant Venture)  
Mirax Terrik Horn (Captain of the Pulsar Skate)  
Mara Jade (Captain of the Jade's Fire)

_Other persons of note_  
Anya Darklighter


	2. Prologue

**Year One - Yavin IV**

_Prologue _

"Stretch out with the Force," Luke Skywalker said. "Feel where the remote is and move accordingly."

"Easy enough for you to say," The young apprentice said. "At least you can see this damn flying ball of scrap when you practice."

"Center yourself," Luke chided. "Your eyes deceive you; feel its movements instead of trying to see it."

The apprentice gritted his teeth as he thumbed on his lightsaber, "I suppose being completely blind has its perks while training with the Force."

As he raised his blade, he stretched out with the Force, trying to pinpoint where the spherical remote was in relation to his blade. He tried to listen for the soft whirring of the object, reorienting his body. Each time, he would feebly spin and position his blade, only to find the Remote was a split second ahead of his actions. He cursed as the sting of the Remote's low-powered laser caught his leg.

"Clear your thoughts," Luke said. "You cannot become in tune with the Force while you are frustrated and angry."

Sighing, the apprentice raised his lightsaber so the blade was parallel with his body. He slowly breathed in, holding the lungful of air as he tried to find the "center" that alluded him so often. Skywalker had told him on numerous occasions that he was too head-strong and impatient. Those attributes would prevent him from fully controlling his ability with the Force. As his mind began to focus, he could feel the Force surrounding him, becoming clearer. Suddenly, through the blackness that lived with him constantly since his accident, he spotted the outline of the Remote. It wasn't much, simply a faint flicker of light against perpetual darkness. It was the Force, replacing the vision he had lost.

Immediately, he spun towards the flicker of light he had seen, positioning his blade just as the remote fired. He heard a sizzling sound as he lightsaber deflected the shot towards the ceiling.

"Good," Luke said. "Do you understand now? When you are at peace, you can feel through the Force…The Force can even help you 'see' what is around you."

"Lovely," the apprentice said sourly. "I suppose this means that one day I can walk around the Academy without a guidance droid holding my hand like some pathetic child."

"One day you will be able to see again," Luke replied, "but only if you can remain at peace with yourself…That is why you fell to the Dark Side, why you were seduced by its quick promises of self-gratification. The Dark Side is powerful, but when you are in tune with the Light Side of the Force, you will be able to accomplish tasks such as this."

"Deflecting remote fire with a lightsaber?" the apprentice asked. "No offense, Skywalker, but that won't do me much good…other than winning bets in cantinas."

"Yes, small things such as this," Skywalker said in turn, "but if you can use the Force to do this, imagine what you can accomplish once you are ready to truly call upon its powers…This may seem trivial to you now, but one day you will understand fully what you can do when you are in tune with the Force."

***

* * *

Prior to his arrival at the Academy, he had never cared much for dates, but now it was one of the few things that could take his mind off of the past. If he was correct, it had been six months since he had arrived at the Jedi Academy for instruction, six months since his first lesson with Master Skywalker and that infernal remote… Six months since the rage-driven duel that cost him his eyesight.

As he stepped off the shuttle ramp, he could feel the world around him was oppressively hot and humid, a Jungle climate, he assumed. That must have meant he was finally back on Yavin IV, home of the great Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy. It was his only home; the last place in the Galaxy where he was accepted... perhaps not so much accepted as simply "allowed to reside without penalty of being run off." In reality, he didn't care about the fact that he was the perpetual pariah of the Academy. He had a place to stay, a place to sleep, and food to eat. It was more than he could have asked for, not that it ever stopped him from complaining.

He was bitter about his misfortune in life, and he wasn't afraid to voice it. He had grown up in an Imperial controlled world, watching the Empire brainwash children to hate alien beings, and nearly succeeding in brainwashing himself. He had been forced to flee his home at the young age of sixteen. Years later, he joined the New Republic military corps, which would pull him along the path of internal devastation. It was like a cliché holodrama his life followed; he was a young gung-ho pilot who felt he could take on the Empire by himself, he fell in love, he watched his lover killed by the enemy, and ultimately he spiraled into a life of rage and anger. In the end, it had wound up costing him everything but his life.

That brought him to Yavin IV. He was a Force-Sensitive, like his father before him had been. With no where left to turn, he turned to the Jedi to start his life over. It was ironic, he would say to himself on several occasions. He had grown up loathing the Jedi, believing they had been responsible for the death of his father and the reason why he had grown up in an oppressed world. No matter, here had been given the chance to rebuild his shattered hopes and dreams. He worked hard, learning the ways of the Force. Still, he was different from the other candidates there, wanting to learn how to hone the Force to "better the galaxy around them." A noble endeavor, if any, but he didn't pay much heed to the welfare of the galaxy. His peers had noticed his apathetic behavior, and often they questioned why he was at the Academy. At times, he wished he could answer that question for himself.

As hard as he tried, he would be the first to admit he was a mediocre Jedi. It was a struggle for him to place his mind in a position to be in-tune with the Force. Often, he would have to resort to craftier methods to achieve a goal, for he knew he couldn't count on his ability to draw upon the Force as much as other students could. His methods were unorthodox, perhaps even unethical, but they worked. To him, the Force wasn't everything. It simply was another tool to add to his arsenal.

He had achieved the rank of Jedi Knight in six months of formal training at the Academy. On the surface, it appeared to be an unusual occurrence. Many students studied for years before achieving the rank, but he had already ascended to that position. It should have brought him a feeling of elation, but Skywalker had made it clear that it wasn't his ability to draw upon the Force that had set him apart.

"In another time," Skywalker had said, "you would still be a padawan. Today, we live in an era in which there are too few of us, and it is perhaps largest reason you are where you are."

It was a humbling experience for him. He lived in a time where the Jedi were few, and rank was awarded based on one important question: could the candidate survive in the Galaxy? He had spent the last six years of his life on his own after he had left his home world of Nar Shaddaa, whereas many of the other students had lived relatively sheltered lives. He had arrived at the Academy with the only prerequisite that mattered. As he looked back upon that realization, the entire event would feel hollow. He knew it wasn't his ability as a Jedi that had won him the rank of Jedi Knight, but the unfortunate events that had brought him to the Academy in the first place.

As he stepped into the cool confines of the Jedi Academy, he felt a familiar presence.

"You're late," Skywalker said.

"Sorry, up late," he replied, "late-night holoweb pornography, you know how that goes."

"As always, your immorality and complete lack of manners have joined you," Skywalker replied with a sigh, "Come on, Katarn's here and we've got some new training excercises for you."

"Joy."

He stretched out with the Force, the outlines of the large room appearing before him. He then moved towards the elevator, glancing at the droid guarding the door.

"Please identify yourself," the droid said.

"Jabba the Hutt," he said.

"Error," the droid replied, "no such name in database, please try again."

Sighing, he decided to cooperate.

"Darvix Zorvan," he said.


	3. Methods of Madness

**Year One – Yavin IV  
Chapter One – Methods of Madness**

Darvix Zorvan slung his towel over his shoulder as he stepped out of one of the Academy's large training halls. By this point, he should have known that "new training exercises" equated to "new forms of cruel and unusual punishment." For the last hour, Skywalker had drilled him in new forms of lightsaber dueling technique. As good as he was with a blade, it was nothing compared to that of Master Skywalker. Training sessions with him were as grueling as any drill he had gone through at the Starfighter Academy years ago.

"What's the matter, Zorvan?" someone asked from behind him. "You look a little winded."

"Winded is an understatement," Darvix replied. "I hold you personally responsible for my current anguish, Katarn."

Kyle Katarn, one of the more interesting personalities Darvix had ever met. He was a former Imperial Stormtrooper turned Alliance (and then Republic) intelligence hero. He discovered his Jedi heritage while in service with the Rebel Alliance, and joined Skywalker's Jedi Academy nearly a decade later. Since then, he became one of the most respected Jedi of the new Order, earning himself the rank of Jedi Master. Despite his success as a Jedi, Katarn was one of the more unorthodox members of the Academy. His style was laid back and informal, a refreshing change from the usual up-tight students of the academy.

"How long have you been here?" Katarn asked.

"Six months," Darvix replied. "Why?"

"You're a Jedi Knight, not another student here," Kyle replied. "Don't you think it's strange that Skywalker hasn't given you any work yet?"

"I'm not complaining," Darvix said with a shrug. "Free food, free housing, and I can ritualistically haze all the apprentices all I want."

"You know, for a Jedi with such high potential, you have exceptionally low standards for yourself."

"The way I see it, I'm never disappointed with my performance."

Darvix thought it was obvious as to why he had never received an assignment of any importance from Skywalker. During his six-month duration at the Academy, he had never bothered to hide the fact that he had fallen to the Dark Side of the Force, furthering his image of being one of the most capable, but in reality, worst students at the Academy. He was the Anti-Jedi, and he knew it.

"Skywalker is convinced you're going to be a great Jedi," Katarn said, breaking Darvix's train of thought.

"Shocking," Darvix replied. "He hasn't broken into my spice supply, has he?"

He never bothered to hide the fact that he was a blatant spice addict. It wasn't a very Jedi-like thing, an addiction to illegal drugs. Then again, very little about Darvix was Jedi-like. He often professed that he was "Just a guy with a lightsaber and an annoying little connection to the Force."

"It boggles my mind," Katarn said. "Antilles told me you were one of the most dedicated pilots he ever had. Either he was lying to get rid of you, or he was hallucinating the entire time you served under him."

"Nah, he just paid me better than you and Skywalker... Either that or he got into my spice supply, too."

Prior to his arrival at the Jedi Academy, he had served under the illustrious General Wedge Antilles as a pilot in his famed Rogue Squadron. He had established himself as one of the squadron's quickest minds, both in the cockpit and in the field. Someone would be hard-pressed to find a squad-mate who thought of him as lazy. What had changed? Even Darvix couldn't provide a solid answer. Perhaps losing his vision and falling into the Dark Side had changed him for the worse. Perhaps he had always been a "miserable, callous nerf-herder" but had been hiding it behind a mask.

"Jedi Zorvan?" a female voice said from his side. "Master Skywalker wishes to see you."

"Again?" Darvix asked. "I just left the training hall."

"He's waiting for you in his chambers," she replied.

Sighing, he waved her off and continued walking, making sure to deliberately plant his foot heavily atop of hers in the process.

"Oops," Darvix said half-heatredly. "Sorry about that, the whole 'blind' thing, you know."

"It is forgiven," she replied.

Shaking his head, he walked off with Katarn towards Skywalker's audience chambers.

"You did that on purpose," he chided.

"What?" Darvix asked, feigning shock. "Having my already non-organic eyes gouged out so I'd loose my vision? Yeah, that was intentional. Sight is _so_ overrated."

"Stepping on her foot."

"Of course that was intentional, you twit," Darvix replied. "These students are far too apologetic for their own good. Soon as they get out into the galaxy, they'll be as helpless as a womprat staring down a Rancor. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean a student shouldn't get upset when I go out of my way to offend them."

"I don't think I'll ever understand what Skywalker sees in you."

"Obviously he keeps me around for my rear end. It's like having a nice piece of art in the lobby."

"Of course," Katarn replied with a sigh. "You could have at least tried to apologize to that student sincerely."

"Judging by the maturity of her voice," Darvix mused, "she's in her early thirties and not that much of a looker. She's had plenty of people offend her over the years, doesn't need me to apologize. She's used to it."

"Actually she's twenty-one," Kyle said in turn "Her name's Kasari Lisae, one of our top students here at the Academy. If you weren't blind I imagine your jaw would be half-way to the floor at first glance at her."

"She's that hideous?"

"No, she's quite the looker."

"I'll be sure Jan doesn't find out you've been looking at younger women."

"I'd appreciate that."

***

* * *

As Darvix stepped into the audience chambers, he bumped into Skywalker's astromech droid, who promptly warbled angrily at him. Sometimes Darvix missed his cybernetic eye implants, because the Force could only help him see so much.

"Easy, Artoo," Luke chided. "He didn't mean to bump into you, at least this time."

"You wished to see me, oh exalted one?" Darvix asked sarcastically. "Honestly, if this is about the exploding refresher, I swear it was Korvat's idea."

"I don't want to know," Luke said, raising a hand. "For the love of the Force, I don't want to know."

"So what can I do for you, oh pride of the biggest desert wasteland in the galaxy?"

"I have an assignment for you," Luke said. "It's about time I get you away from the impressionable younglings and put you to work."

"Oh joy," Darvix replied sourly. "Let me guess, there's been a land dispute on some backwater, outer-rim farming world that needs to be settled. Force forbid that situation escalate out of control, they might start hurling compost at each other."

Luke smiled faintly and shook his head, "No, this is a favor General Antilles is calling in."

Darvix could feel himself doing a double-take. What in the world did Wedge need, and why did it involve him?

"No offense, but I'm not exactly on the best ground with Antilles," Darvix mused. "I nearly got Rogue Squadron killed on several occasions."

"Don't blame me, he requested you," Luke said. "This goes without saying, but I'm sure this is all highly-classified information. Wedge is working on shutting down some fringe groups, but needs to work with the fringe as a result."

"That man was the master of convoluted plans."

Ignoring Darvix, Luke continued, "He needs a liaison to communicate between him and Talon Karrde. Apparently Karrde's got information he needs."

"From what I hear, Karrde has information for everyone in the galaxy, provided they have enough credits… Skywalker, if I'm not mistaken, isn't that redhead you're so infatuated with working for Karrde?"

"Her name is Mara Jade, and there is nothing going on between us. Unfortunately she is busy with other matters and won't be able to work on this one. I want you to take one of the students with you, Force knows we don't have enough opportunities for real-world training. I don't need your response now, but if you could let me know who-"

"I'll take Lisae," Darvix said.

"Kasari Lisae?" Luke asked, a hint of shock in his voice. "I don't know, Darvix. I don't think you're the…best person she could be working with."

"What's wrong? She's one of your best students, it's about time you gave her some real experience in the field."

"You can have Lisae, but let me put it this way," Luke replied, "there are times you're as influential as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader when it comes to mischief."

"Are you comparing me to Sith Lords?" Darvix asked.

"Yes."

"…Nice," he replied admiringly. "If that'll be all, I'll just head back to my quarters and-"

"You're going to need to pilot your snubfighter for this mission."

With that, Darvix froze in his place. He hadn't sat behind the flightstick of a snubfighter in six months, for obvious reasons. He avoided flying like the plague since his last mission with the Rogues and Wraiths. It wasn't that he was afraid of piloting a craft anymore, he was afraid of confronting part of his past. This meant he would finally have to leave his comfortable world of darkness.

"The Redemption is in this system," Luke said. "They're standing by for your arrival and are ready to perform the operation."

"I understand. I'll take the first transport out."

Darvix turned around and walked out of the chambers. For a man that was about to regain his eyesight, he should have been ecstatic, but all Darvix could feel was a keen sense of dread. As he left the large audience chamber, Kyle Katarn looked at Skywalker.

"Is this his test?" he asked.

Luke nodded, "He's already proven he can be an effective Jedi. This will show us if he's ready to become an effective teacher."

"If he passes," Kyle asked, "does that mean you're finally going to tell him?"

"We'll see," Luke said.


	4. The Misanthrope and the Musician

Chapter Two  
The Misanthrope and the Musician

There was perhaps no more likable figure in the Academy than Kasari Lisae. She was one of the most gifted students there, yet was by and far the most humble. She would shirk away from praise regularly, insisting that her accomplishments were "no big deal." Her instructors often conceded that her maturity was far beyond her years. In short, she was simply a pleasure to work with.

When Master Skywalker had informed her that she had been selected to accompany a Jedi Knight into the field, she simply said that the task was an honor to her. Deep within her, however, she was ecstatic to finally be tested in the field. She was close to finally attaining the rank of Jedi Knight, and she knew it. With any luck, this would finally push her over the top. Until then, she would have to find the Jedi who selected her and properly thank him.

She stopped in front of one of the single-occupant dormitory rooms, reserved for Jedi Knights. The plate above the door red "221B," and below it the occupant's name, "Darvix Zorvan." _That was the Jedi Master Skywalker summoned earlier,_ she said to herself. He seemed to have been an odd man, but she couldn't quite place her finger on exactly what was wrong with him. No matter, that could wait for another day. Smiling to herself, she keyed the door-chime.

***

* * *

Darvix found himself lost in thought as his fingers gracefully worked over the keys of his grand keybed, an instrument he learned to play years ago. Before he fled his home world of Nar Shaddaa, he had trained to become a musician. There was a point in time where he had enjoyed performing for others, but those days were long behind him. Now he played to distract himself from the galaxy around him, and when that didn't work…

He sighed to himself and rubbed his temples. His mind was a mess off thoughts thanks to his meeting with Skywalker. Wedge had summoned him for help, to fight another battle that wasn't his to fight. Darvix had left Rogue Squadron for good six months earlier, and he had no intentions of returning to face his former squad mates. Unfortunately, those intentions didn't matter at this point. He had a task to accomplish, but the task would require him to do something he had avoiding for a long time.

After the Republic's success at the Bilbringi system over Reyov Naolin's fleet, Darvix found himself in a bacta tank. In a fit of rage, he had tailed an Imperial pilot to the planet's surface, downing his ship. The pilot had survived the wreck, but Darvix was determined to end his life there. He landed and approached the pilot, but just as he was about to strike down the Imperial with his lightsaber, he was confronted by his mentor, a Jedi and Rogue named Corran Horn. Darvix had been consumed by the Dark Side, feeling the need to slay the pilot for personal revenge, but Horn wouldn't allow it. Darvix could vaguely remember what had happened during the duel with Horn, but one detail always emerged to haunt him. As Darvix lost his balance, Corran's lightsaber came at his face, slicing through his cybernetic eyes and leaving him completely blind.

Darvix shook his head. He was thinking too much of the past, and it was starting to bother him. He often told himself that his life was a mess as it was; thinking about the past would only throw him into a faster tailspin. As he tried to refocus on the instrument in front of him, he found that his thoughts were too jumbled. He couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate with him. Suddenly he found himself at a point where music wouldn't take his mind off of his thoughts. He stretched out with the Force, searching for a case that held what he was looking for. He 'saw' it lying atop the keybed, right where he had left it.

He opened the case and withdrew a vial of clear liquid as well as an epidermic syringe. Hastily, he filled the syringe with the fluid, exceeding the dosage that most would consider "safe." Darvix lifted up his shirt sleeve and thrust the needle into his arm, depressing the plunger to inject the fluid into his system. He let out a soft sigh as, almost immediately; the illegal Spice began to kick into his system. The familiar mild euphoria the Spice provided pushed his troublesome thoughts to the back of his mind, allowing him to finally relax.

It was just at that moment the door-chime rang. Darvix cursed and stood up, walking to the door. He was tempted to grab his old service blaster, just to scare off whoever was trying to talk to him. Then again, he was just as tempted to actually _use_ his old service blaster to ensure that person wouldn't pester him again. Unfortunately, that might have some rather negative repercussions. With a mental shrug, he opened the door.

"Whatever it is you want," Darvix said, "I don't have it, and even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you…Well, maybe if you want sexual favors, I can make an exception."

Standing before him was Kasari Lisae, the promising young student he had selected to accompany him on his assignment. If he were able to see, the look on the poor student's face would have caused him to double-over in laughter. She wore an expression of shock, confusion, and utter disgust, in other words, the usual expression someone wore when they spoke with Darvix.

"Ah, it's you," Darvix said, finally realizing who his visitor was. "Wish I could chat, but I've got a shuttle to catch in a few minutes…well, actually, I really don't wish I could chat, just seemed like a nice thing to say."

As Darvix tried to close his door, Kasari shoved her foot in the doorway.

"I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to join you," she said, trying her best to keep a warm tone, despite Darvix's rather…inappropriate behavior.

"Don't put too much stock into it," Darvix said. "Katarn told me you were a looker."

As Kasari stared at Darvix, stunned that he could have said something bordering on sexual harassment, he managed to get his door closed. He smiled to himself as he slipped into his room to grab the supplies he would need for his trip to the Redemption. He might be able to have some fun with this assignment after all.

***

* * *

From the moment Kasari Lisae stepped into Luke's audience chambers, he knew he was in for a headache. No doubt, she had gone and talked to Darvix, and he had either said something rude, or had made a pass at Lisae. Knowing Darvix, it was probably both. He braced himself for what was no doubt coming.

"Padawan Lisae, how may I help you?" Luke asked calmly.

"I'd like to respectfully decline my invitation to join Jedi Knight Zorvan on his assignment," she replied.

"I suppose I'll just get right to the point" Luke said with a sigh, "what did he do this time?"

Kasari stared at Skywalker for a moment before speaking, "You know about his behavior problems?"

"You have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to hear about his antics," Luke replied with a shrug.

"Then why do you keep him here?" she demanded.

"Kasari, I know Jedi Zorvan is…eccentric," Luke conceded, "and that his behavior often is against everything we teach our students here, but he is truly a gifted Jedi. It is difficult now to see what sets him apart from the others here, but I assure you he is extremely capable."

"I just don't think we would work well together, Master Skywalker," she said. "What do you think I should do?"

"If I were you, Kasari," Luke replied, "I'd give him a chance. He's gone through a lot in life, and has much that he can teach you."

Kasari thought to herself for a moment. From the few chances she had to speak with Darvix, he had presented himself as being incredibly misanthropic and withdrawn. Surely, that couldn't be who he really was. She had been taught to give those around her the benefit of the doubt, and Jedi Zorvan should be no exception.

"Very well," she said. "I will accompany Jedi Zorvan on this assignment."

"Good," Luke said in turn. "Darvix will be unavailable for the next forty-eight hours or so, but after that the two of you will depart for Coruscant to meet with General Antilles."

"General _Wedge_ Antilles?" Kasari asked. "As in, New Republic hero Wedge Antilles? The man who survived two Death Star runs, brought Iceheart to her knees, nearly toppled Warlord Zsinj, and for nearly a decade was the Republic's most eligible bachelor?"

"…It's the wanted poster, isn't it?" Luke asked. "Janson was right. Everyone falls for the wanted poster."

***

* * *

Darvix wasn't sure what time it was when he finally regained consciousness. As the fog cleared from his mind, he tried to remember the sequence of events that had brought him to where he was now. Something about Skywalker giving him some sort of assignment, telling him the Redemption was in system…

The Redemption. It was perhaps the most respected medical ship in all of the New Republic, hosting only the finest military doctors and nurses. He'd been on board the ship once before, and if his brain wasn't playing tricks on him, that's where he was now. The last time, he had to take a month-long soak in a bacta tank while being tended to by the Redemption's medical staff. That was thanks to one of his first missions with Rogue Squadron, which ended in an ambush that left him floating in zero-gee without his left arm. The last time he had been here, he had nearly died. He left with the taste of bacta in his mouth, and a cybernetic left arm.

"Ah, Mr. Zorvan I see you've finally woken up," a new voice said. Probably a doctor, Darvix thought to himself. "How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling? As the fog finally lifted fully from his mind, he felt a dull ache in his head.

"Feels like someone's been banging on my head with a set of hydrospanners," Darvix grumbled.

"That's a normal side effect," the stranger said. "That'll disappear in a few days time. You're very lucky, Mr. Zorvan. It's very rare to find someone who has managed to regenerate their own optic nerves. Typically, that is a problem that even bacta cannot fix. Now, we'll just dim these lights a bit and remove those bandages from your eyes…"

Ah, right, that was why he was on the Redemption. Part of this mission required Darvix to return to the flightstick of a snubfigher, but of course, he couldn't do that blind. Years ago, Darvix had nearly lost his vision due to a bacterial infection that had gone untreated. His eyes had been replaced by a pair of cybernetic implants. They were inferior to what his real eyes had been, but it was better than nothing. Then there was the duel, and then after that, there was nothing but darkness in Darvix's world. Granted, Darvix could have had this procedure done months ago, yet he had chosen not to. Part of him seemed to fear what would happen when he regained his vision. He had grown so much within the Force because of his blindness. It had caused him to develop his skills with its use, simply in order to survive in daily life. Would he loose that ability when he regained his vision?

That was just part of the problem. The cynical part of his mind began to nag at him as the doctor began to carefully pull off the bandages. He had grown accustomed to misery; he had grown to revel in it. His blindness fed his misery and disdain for life in general. He didn't want to be miserable, but at the same time, he didn't want to change. He had accepted the way life treated him. He knew that every hand of cards the galaxy gave him would be worthless. If he were to regain his vision, he might regain some of that false hope that had only served to hurt him in the past.

"You can open your eyes now, Mr. Zorvan," the doctor said.

Taking a deep breath, Darvix slowly opened his eyes. No longer was the galaxy pitch black, or the electronic blue that his cybernetic eyes had always cast the galaxy in. He could see color, he could see images, and he could clearly see the faces of the medical staff in the room. As he looked forward, he saw a mirror, and for the first time in over a decade, he saw himself.

His black hair was a mess from not having groomed in approximately two days. His face was covered in a thick layer of stubble, from not having shaven in that period of time. One detail finally caught his attention: the color of his new eyes. As he looked into the mirror, he saw looking back at him a pair of emerald green colored eyes. His mother had said it was the color of his fathers eyes, before he had died. Most importantly, it was the color of his eyes before he had lost them all those years ago.

Despite himself, a reluctant smile began to form on his lips. His mind yelled at him to put his emotions in check, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, a faint glimmer of happiness emerged within him.

_Easy, Dap,_ he said to himself. _You can enjoy this, but back to your normal self soon as you're off this ship._


	5. Lessons

Chapter Three  
Lessons

Darvix Zorvan yawned as he stepped into one of the Jedi Academy's large hangers. At one point, the spacious room had held the X-Wing and Y-wing snubflighters the Rebellion had used to destroy the Empire's first Death Star. Now, it was filled with shuttles and transports, save for a few exceptions. The Academy held a small number of snubfighters, mostly aging Z-95 Headhunters and battle-worn Y-Wings that had been cast off from the New Republic's fleet. Many students were trained to fly combat snubfighters in conjunction with their Jedi training. Skywalker had often said that knowing how to fly his X-Wing had saved his life countless times since retiring from the New Republic military.

There was one anomaly in the hanger, Darvix's personal craft. He smiled faintly as he stepped towards his Incom T-65AC4, more commonly known throughout the galaxy as the X-Wing starfighter. The X-Wing was the mainstay of the New Republic and the old Rebel Alliance. It had been introduced by the Incom corporation prior to the Battle of Yavin to supplement the Rebellion's less-nimble Y-Wing bomber. It may not have excelled at any one particular area of combat, but it was the most versatile snubfighter in the New Republic's fleet to this day. While at the Academy, Darvix had fallen in love with the fighter's multi-role design, allowing it to perform tasks from intercepting enemy fighters, to destroying capitol ships.

It had been more than six months since he had last sat behind the flightstick of an X-Wing. There was a point in time where he could have said proudly that he was one of the best behind the ship's controls. His quick hands and even faster mind, the same traits that made him a competent Jedi, had made him a deadly pilot. Despite that, six months was a long period of time to be away from the flightstick. Like any sport or art, flying a snubfighter took constant practice and refinement. Well, as long as he didn't run into any Imperial patrols, he would be fine.

He smiled to himself as he spotted an R2 unit below the snubfighter, working at an open panel with one if its utility arms. He patted the droid's domed head as he knelt beside it to watch it work.

"Hi there, Zone," Darvix said.

The droid let out a happy-sounding warble as it turned its head to look at Darvix.

"Yes, I'm happy to be back," he replied. "How's she' holding together?"

Zone gave a rather mournful trill in return. Darvix looked up at his old starfighter, noting almost immediately that it had seen better days. Carbon scoring was all over the once pristine hull of the ship. Dents and dings pitted the surface, and that didn't even begin to cover what plagued the actual structure of the ship. His X-Wing had seen a lot of action in its limited service with the New Republic. A tech had once told him that she was barely space worthy anymore, but Darvix refused to let the ship go. It was nothing a bit of work couldn't take care of.

"I'll be right back, Zone," Darvix said. "I need to go get my flightsuit."

Zone seemed to perk up, sounding an excited trill.

"Yes, looks like we're going to go for a flight," Darvix said, patting the droid before walking out of the hanger.

As soon as he set foot into the hallway leading away from the hanger, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. _Sithspit,_ Darvix said to himself. He just wanted to return to his dormitory to get his supplies. The sooner he was in space, the sooner he would get to Coruscant, and the sooner he could get this infernal assignment over with. The last thing he needed was to talk to some pimply-faced padawan. He turned to his side, ready to chew out the student, only to realize the student who wanted his attention was Kasari Lisae.

"Jedi Zorvan, it's good to see you have returned," she said. "Your eyes…Is that why you left…?"

"The better to see you with, Lisae," he replied, his gaze slowly falling lower and lower. "Sithspit…Katarn was right, you are a looker."

Faster than a womprat scurrying away from an incoming Skyhopper, Kasari glared and brought her hand up, bringing it squarely across Darvix's left cheek. As Darvix tried to rub the sting of his face, she stormed off in a huff.

***

* * *

Darvix stepped into his dormitory, still rubbing his left cheek. For such a nice looking girl, Lisae sure had a powerful arm. Grinning to himself, he slipped into his room and opened his closet door, pulling out a worn travel bag. Sewn onto its side were several patches, one from Starfighter Academy, one containing the Rogue Squadron insignia, and his personal favorite, the patch that read "Some people are only alive because it's illegal to shoot them."

He filled his bag with the normal things he needed for travel, from clothes, to spare packs for his service blaster. Sure, he had a lightsaber, but there were instances where a blaster was a very useful tool. After he closed up his bag, he moved back into his closet, reaching in and pulling out his flightsuit and helmet. It had been a long time since he had last suited up…

_Alright, that's enough waxing nostalgic,_ he said to himself. _Time to focus in._

Shaking his head, he changed into the orange flightsuit, a color favored by pilots since the days of the Rebellion. He cursed as he tried to remember the intricate details of preparing the life-support vest in the horrific case he would have to go extra-vehicular. He had done it before, and prayed he would never have to do it again. As he shouldered his travel bag, he caught a glance of himself in his mirror. _Damn, I make this look good._ Grinning once more, he walked out of his room, casting a wayward glance at his KeyBed. He strode over to it, examining the sleek, black case that rested upon it. He was beginning to run low on his Spice mixture. With a mental shrug, he picked up the case and tucked it under his arm. He'd just have to prepare another batch while in hyperspace.

***

Nearly half a standard hour later, he found himself in the vacuum of space. It felt strange to be behind the flight stick again, considering he had regained his full vision. In the past, he had to struggle to keep his focus above the panel of instruments in front of him and locked onto the heads-up-display. With his cybernetic eyes, too much information created a lag-time that could spell disaster. Now all the details were clear. Before, he had to rely on the targeting computer to help him navigate and fly, but now his visual strength allowed him to pilot based on sight.

He reached over to his communication panel and toggled an open frequency, "This is Rogue…Academy starfighter Oh-Eight-Theta, you there Lisae?"

"I hear you," she replied over the comlink, "Unfortunately."

Darvix smiled as he looked to his left, spotting the Y-Wing that Kasari Lisae piloted, "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, something bothering you, Lisae?"

"Well I was fine," she snapped, "then you decided to have a stare-fest at my chest."

"Lighten up, since when is it a crime to admire beauty?" Darvix replied.

"Since it was deemed that sexual harassment was a misdemeanor by Coruscant federal courts."

"Details details, Lisae, don't bother me with technicalities," Darvix chided. "Keep up, will you? I can't throttle back my X-Wing much more."

"Why don't you try flying this piece of scrap metal?" she said sourly.

"Lisae, even if I were in that piece of junk, I would still fly laps around you. You might be a good Jedi, but you've got a lot to learn about the rest of the Galaxy if you ever hope to survive. Lesson one, never upset a pilot who's superior to you…You might find yourself floating around the universe as space debris real fast."

Darvix grinned to himself as he heard her grumble over the comlink. A little good-natured ribbing would be good for her. After all, the Academy coddled her too much. If anything, he was simply a dose of reality that she desperately needed. He would treat her just like he was treated at the Starfighter Academy. He would be hard on her until she proved herself fit to roam the Galaxy on her own, and even then, he probably would continue ribbing her.

"Astrogation set," Darvix said. "Preparing to jump to-"

"Will you wait a minute!?" she snapped. "I'm still trying to figure out the right coordinates to set into the navacomputer."

Darvix shook his head, "We've got a long ways to go with you, Lisae. Zone, will you send Miss Lisae the coordinates?"

Zone replied with the rough approximation of a chuckle as it sent the data to Kasari's snubfighter. He could tell that Lisae was becoming increasingly flustered. She'd have to learn to cope, just like he had. His instructors at the Starfighter Academy had been merciless with him, a tactic he sorely wished Skywalker would employ at the Jedi Academy. Those kids could use a good reality check from time to time.

"Ready to go, Lisae?" Darvix asked, feigning politeness.

"Yes, Jedi Zorvan," she replied bitterly.

Without hesitation, Darvix reached for the lever that controlled his hyperdrive, pushing it forward. He felt himself being pushed back into his flightseat as the stars began to streak into lines. The familiar feeling of rapid acceleration hit him as the lines melted in the black and blue walls of hyperspace.

***

* * *

Hyperspace jumps were inevitably long. No snubfighter pilot in their right mind enjoyed them, for it involved remaining inside a cramped cockpit. Still, Darvix usually found ways to keep himself entertained. Sometimes he would upload a new novel onto his datapad, other times he would smuggle an audio player into his cockpit. This time, Darvix had something truly entertaining to keep him busy.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he carefully poured a measured amount of white powder into a vial containing a saline solution. Months ago he had learned how to create his own personal Spice mixture, settling on a mix of refined Andris and powdered glitterstim. It was a rather potent mix, one that heavily focused his mind, making it easier for him to call upon the Force. At the right dosage, the mixture produced a pleasant euphoria, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

He replaced the top on the vial and shook it, causing the powder to dissolve within the saline. Unlike Spice forms that were ingested or inhaled, he could inject this mixture straight into his bloodstream, producing a much quicker effect. Yes, he was addicted to Spice, and no, he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, it helped him harness the Force, and more importantly, it made him feel "relaxed." Live and let live…or was it live and let die? No matter.

He glanced at his chronometer and sighed. He was still a good eight hours away from the Coruscant system. Well, now was as good a chance as any to test out the new vial of Spice he had made. Reaching into his case, he withdrew a syringe, filling it with a conservative dose…conservative as compared to how much he usually took. As he rolled back his flightsuit sleeve and was about to inject himself with the mixture, his comlink hissed to life.

"Jedi Zorvan?" asked.

Darvix rolled his eyes in frustration as he pushed the needle into his skin, "Yes?"

"I apologize for the way I acted earlier, it was uncalled for."

"What do you mean uncalled for?" Darvix said, pushing down on the button that injected the fluid into his system, "and why in Vader's Bones are you apologizing?"

"I should have responded with calmness," she said as a-matter-of-factly. "A Jedi cannot perform their duties when they are angry."

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Darvix chided. "I went out of my way to offend you, so you should be upset at me."

"I strive to be a Jedi, I should not-"

"You see," Darvix said, "that's the problem we have. We teach our students to place themselves above the rest of the Galaxy. You've got a connection to the Force, you've got a lightsaber. So what? Don't assume that because you're a Force Sensitive you're above everyone else. If anything, the Force is a curse to you."

"Jedi Zorvan, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"You're no different than every other being in the galaxy!" he said. "You're born, and you start dieing every moment after you leave your mother's womb. While you trudge through life, slowly dieing, people get in your way to try and piss you off, just like everyone else. Why should you react any different than the rest of the Galaxy?"

"Because I'm trying to become a Jedi," she said, though her voice sounded increasingly unsure.

"And there you go again, elevating yourself above everyone else," Darvix replied. "It's perfectly fine to get upset with someone when annoy the living kriff out of you. Hell, it's normal to get upset. You start suppressing those emotions; you're liable to do something stupid. You can be upset, but it's how you choose to act upon that emotion that matters."

"I…" she started. "I'll reflect upon what you have said, Jedi Zorvan."

"For the love of the Force!" Darvix said, exasperated. "Call me that again and I might have to hit my eject button!"

"What would you prefer I call you?" she asked, sincerely.

"…What my former friends used to call me," he said. "Dap."

With that, Lisae finally silenced herself. Perhaps that was why Skywalker had shown so much trust in Zorvan. He seemed to be able to teach what the rest of the Academy couldn't teach her: how to survive life in this cruel Galaxy. Perhaps there was some brilliance behind his callous ways, after all.


	6. Mourning

Chapter Four  
Mourning

Darvix flexed his fingers around the flightstick as his X-Wing reverted into real space. As he looked through his forward viewport, he saw the urban world of Coruscant grow larger and larger. The world had once been the seat of power within the Old Republic and the Empire. Years later, a small group of men and women were sent by the New Republic to capture the planet and further demoralize the Imperial remnant. Those heroes were known as Rogue Squadron, commanded by then Commander Wedge Antilles.

The man Darvix had once served under, the man who needed his help. Darvix had served in Rogue Squadron before his arrival at the Jedi Academy, joining the fabled group immediately after his graduation from the Starfighter Academy. Antilles had been reluctant to clear him for active service upon his arrival, but the squadron was short-staffed. They needed a pilot who was cross-trained in terminal slicing, and Darvix fit the bill perfectly.

It hadn't been his skill with the flightstick that landed him an assignment with Rogue Squadron; it had been a hobby he had picked up years earlier. If his career had played out the way it should have, he would have been assigned to an outer-rim squadron to guard a low-threat facility. Instead, other factors brought him to the most dangerous assignment he could have received. Most pilot would have been overjoyed to have received an assignment such as that, and at the time, Darvix had been. As he looked back, he could only see his time with Rogue Squadron as more of a curse than a blessing.

Shaking his head, he keyed on his comlink, "This is Jedi Academy stafighter Oh-Eight-Theta hailing Coruscant traffic security. Requesting permission to approach."

"Acknowledged, Oh-Eight-Theta," a nasally voice said over his comlink. "Please state the nature of your visit."

"Hookers," Darvix said bluntly.

"…excuse me, repeat that, Oh-Eight-Theta."

"Hookers," Darvix replied. "You know…hoochies, one-night stands, the Lando Calrissian special… Doesn't anyone ever come to Coruscant looking for a good time? Come on, buddy, you know what I mean."

"Prostitution is a felony on Coruscant!" the dispatcher protested.

"Based on what I saw the last time I was there, you're obviously not enforcing that law very strictly."

"Oh-Eight-Theta, unless you state a valid purpose for visit, you will be detained."

Darvix sighed to himself and rolled his eyes, "Traffic security, if you'd kindly look at my ship's transponder code and the clearance I've already sent you, you'll see that I have military clearance. Now, please clear my flight route or I'll have to ask General Antilles pay you a visit. Is that understood?

"Ah," the dispatcher stumbled, "clearance received. You may proceed to your destination along flight-route one-oh-nine gamma."

"Thank you, traffic security," Darvix said, trying to wipe the grin off his face at the same moment.

***

* * *

As his X-Wing went through its shutdown sequence, Darvix undid the harness straps holding him into his flightseat and keyed the canopy release. With a hiss accompanied by the distinct sound of hydraulics, the transparisteel canopy lifted into the open position, and Darvix stood up. He undid the chinstrap of his helmet, removing it and setting atop his flight console. Placing a foot on the side of his cockpit housing, he leapt to the floor.

He had been directed to a military hanger not far from Rogue Squadron's land-based headquarters. Darvix had been to the building once during his tenure as a Rogue, and had been meaning to pay a return visit since he had resigned his commission to Starfighter Command. Glancing at his wrist chrono, he saw he still had a standard hour until he was due to meet with General Antilles. He smiled faintly to himself; he still had time to attend to a personal matter that had been bothering him for too long.

"Jedi Zorvan-" Kasari Lisae started.

"What did I say?" Darvix interrupted.

"…Dap," she said, correcting herself. "Did you have to be so…rude to the traffic controller?"

"What can I say? Its fun picking on people who lack sufficient mental furniture to recognize wit when it bites them in the ass."

"Wit tends to cater to higher intelligence," she replied. "Your humor was a little on the crude side."

"Are you saying smart people can't enjoy a good prostitute joke?" Darvix asked.

"Honestly, you have the maturity of a ten-year-old sometimes," she said with a sigh. "When are we going to meet with General Antilles?"

"_We_?" Darvix replied, raising a brow. "There's no 'we' in this. You're going to stay right here and watch the ships until I get back, I'll fill you in after I've met with Wedge."

"But-"

"You can wait in line with the rest of his devoted fanclub for his autograph. You stay here, understood Lisae?"

"…Yes, sir," she said resignedly.

With that, Darvix turned on his heels and made his way to one of the adjacent locker rooms. She fumed to herself for a few moments, before catching her error. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to center herself. Frustration was unbecoming of a Jedi, and she should know better. Still, she didn't appreciate how Zorvan kept treating her like a child. He was supposed to be teaching her, but how could he do that if he refused to let her accompany him. Just what did Skywalker see in him?

As Darvix left the changing room, dressed in civilian garb, she made up her mind: she would follow him. She stayed a fair distance behind him, following as he left the military district on foot, walking into a nearby commercial center. Kasari pushed past a few businessmen and continued to trail Darvix. She stopped and tilted her head in slight confusion as he entered a small store.

"A floral shop?" she asked aloud.

It was one of those "Ma' and Pop" flower stores that had gone by the wayside in recent years. Coruscant was a hotbed for giant retail chains, so it was surprising to find a small little store like that. Minutes later, Darvix emerged, carrying a bouquet of flowers close to his chest. Now what would the great Darvix Zorvan need those for? Perhaps he was in the midst of a torrid love affair with a Military Officer? She doubted that, he seemed to be more of a one-night stand kind of man. Perhaps the flowers were to attract a one-night stand. That was definitely more plausible.

She hid around a corner as Darvix walked past her and up the street, failing to notice her presence. He seemed to be extremely wrapped up in his thoughts. Once he had gotten a ways in front of her, she continued to follow in his wake. He headed back into the military area, approaching a rather unassuming three-story duracrete structure. As he slipped in, Kasari caught sight of a logo printed on the door, an old Rebel Alliance insignia surrounded by a sun with twelve bursts coming from the center, each accompanied by the outline of an X-Wing.

She waited a few moments before stepping into the building, catching a glimpse of Darvix walking down a hallway and through a door at the end. She followed briskly, slipping into the room as well and quickly moving towards the shadows. As she looked around, she realized she had entered into a large, very well-lit viewing chamber. Lining the walls were floor-mounted holo-projectors, each one displaying the image of a pilot. At the end of the row stood Darvix Zorvan.

***

* * *

"My name was Cheriss ke Hanadi," the image said. "I was the first Adumari pilot to graduate from the Starfighter Academy, and was placed into Rogue Squadron. I served as a pilot and armed combat specialist for one year before we were ambushed on a patrol by the Empire's prototype Phantom Starfighter program. One of my wingmen was damaged in combat, and before the Phantom could destroy him, I sacrificed by ship, and my life, to save him."

As much as he wished she hadn't done that to save him, he knew he would have done the same thing in her place. They had been in love, and would have gone to the ends of the Galaxy for each other. Her final sacrifice had been the ultimate act of courage and love, a gift to him that he had no hope of ever returning. Darvix had taken her death hard, allowing it to consume his very being. It had been the final piece that caused him to spiral into the Dark Side.

She really had been a beautiful woman, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. Even in the holoimage he could see an aura of strength within her. She had been a fighter to the very end…He could have been happy with her. He took a deep, unsteady breath as he knelt down setting the bouquet of flowers in front of the holoprojector. They had been her favorite, a flower native to the world of Dantooine.

He brought a hand up to his eyes, brushing away a few stray tears before they had a chance to cascade down his face. He wasn't the first to lose a loved one in the middle of war, and wouldn't be the last. As he took another steadying breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of flimsy, unfolding it and glancing at the words written on it for a moment. Darvix caught a glimpse at his wrist chrono. He refolded the flimsy and set it down beside the flowers, standing and making his way out of the room.

As the door hissed shut behind him, Kasari emerged from the shadows, slowly walking over to the holoprojector he had stood at. She listened to the recording of the flightsuit-clad woman, finally realizing what the flowers had been for. Darvix had come to pay his respects to the deceased, but why this pilot in particular? What was his relationship with her? Kasari saw the folded sheet of flimsy. She knew better than to pry, but curiosity got the best of her. She knelt over and picked it up, unfolding it.

Written in rather untidy handwriting was a short, but incredibly sincere note. It simply read: Thank you. Kasari looked up at the image of the woman once more, realization setting in. Darvix had been the pilot this woman had saved, the pilot she had sacrificed her for. She set down the flimsy and thought to herself for a moment. There seemed to be more going on than what she had seen. As she watched Darvix, she saw that the man was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He had some deeper connection with this pilot, but what was it?

She turned around and walked out of the room. It had been a side of Darvix that she hadn't seen. Granted, she hadn't been working with him that long, and hadn't had the chance to get to know him at the Academy, but what she had seen seemed to be at odds with his reputation. He was regarded as being tough and callous. Her instructors had said that Darvix rarely showed any emotion that displayed a sense of compassion for those around him.

Kasari saw Darvix turn a corner to walk deeper into the building. She decided that she might as well follow suit. She had already come this far, she might as well get the assignment information first-hand. She would just tell Darvix that she had been asked to leave the hanger by the personnel there. She found herself in an office area where men and women were seated behind desks, hammering away at paperwork. Ontop of the desks were desk tags with familiar names known throughout the Galaxy. They were perhaps the most well-known pilots in the Republic: Gavin Darklighter, Inyri Forge, Wes Janson, Tycho Celchu, and Hobbie Klivian to name a few.

"Wes, we've got a visitor," one of the men said.

Major Wes Janson looked up from his desk, grinning, "And a looker at that."

A split-second later, a caf mug came in contact with the Major's head, spilling the hot drink all over the man. Wes bolted out of his seat, yelping in pain. Kasari looked over at the woman who had thrown it, her desk reading "Maj. Inyri Forge."

"Ten points, Forge," the man sitting at Gavin Darklighter's desk said.

_This is Rogue Squadron?_ she asked herself, feeling her jaw drop slightly. _What a bunch of screw-ups!_


	7. Phantom Echoes

**Chapter Five  
Phantom Echoes**

Darvix sat in front of Wedge Antilles' desk, glancing around the office idly as he waited for the General to arrive. There were only a few personal effects, such as holos of various people Wedge had been close to over the years. Darvix tilted his head as he looked at one particular holoimage, a squadron photo. He recognized some of the faces in there: Then-Commander Luke Skywalker standing next to Wedge, as well as Zev Senesca, Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian and others whom he didn't recognize as readily. This must have been the original Rogue Squadron formed after the Battle of Yavin. Save for a few lucky men, most of the squadron had been killed in action years ago, either at Hoth or at Endor. Those who hadn't survived were enshrined in the Rogue Squadron memorial, a place he knew he would never be immortalized in.

He knew he had been one of the biggest wastes of talent ever to come through the Academy. Yes, his instructors had showered him with praise, telling him he was a natural with the flightstick, but all he had was potential. He could have been great, and he knew it. Instead he let his personal demons best him. If he had put his mind into piloting, he would still be a Rogue. He would still be a gifted pilot, not a mediocre Jedi. As it stood now, Darvix was simply a case of misused potential.

Darvix looked up as he heard the door slide open, expecting to see General Antilles. Instead, he saw Kasari Lisae enter into the room, accompanied by Tycho Celchu, his former executive officer.

"Lisae, I told you to wait with the starfighters," Darvix said, shaking his head.

"The…Maintenance crews asked me to, uh, leave," she replied.

"You are potentially the worst liar I've ever met," Darvix said. "Take a seat; I guess you couldn't wait to get Antilles' autograph."

"Do you treat all your subordinates like this?" Tycho asked, raising a brow.

"Only the ones I'm hoping to bed," Darvix replied. "I'm told women like a man who's brutally honest."

Lisae shot Darvix a look of utter disgust. Why did the man insist on viewing her as some sort of sex object? Before she could speak up, the door slid open again.

"Sorry I'm late," General Wedge Antilles said, "you wouldn't believe the traffic I ran into."

Kasari looked at the newcomer, Wedge Antilles, hero of the New Republic. _Funny,_ she said to herself, _he's shorter than I thought he would be._

Wedge moved to take a seat behind his desk, "Good to see you, Dap…I take it the operation went well?"

"I can see shades other than blue these days," Darvix replied, "I'd say it was fairly successful."

"Good to hear," Wedge replied, sitting further back in his office chair, "I'll dispense with the pleasnentries. First off, is this young lady cleared for this briefing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Darvix replied. "This is-"

"Kasari Lisae," she interrupted. "Padawan of the Jedi Academy and serving temporarily under Jedi Knight Zorvan."

Wedge looked back to Darvix, "Jedi Knight? How'd you pull that off?"

"Oh, a bribe here, a sexual favor there," Darvix replied with a shrug.

"Skywalker is letting you teach?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"General…" Tycho chided.

"Anyways," Wedge continued, "I'm sure Luke's already told you, but I need a middle-man right now. Talon Karrde would assume not have direct lines with the Republic military right now."

"So, instead, you'll send ex-Republic military?" Darvix asked, an amused smirk on his lips.

"Precisely," Wedge replied. "Apparently he's also under the impression that Jedi Knights can be trusted as well, go figure."

"Apparently he hasn't met Darvix yet," Kasari said under her breath. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but is it wise to trust a…fringe type like Karrde?"

"Karrde hasn't let the New Republic down in the past," Wedge said. "I don't expect this to be any different."

"If you wouldn't mind me asking, sir," Darvix said, "but what information am I trying to get from Karrde?"

"You've got military clearance," Wedge replied, "so I can tell you this. Turns out we didn't track down all of the Seinar Fleet Systems techs that worked on the Phantom project."

The Phantom TIE Project. It had been a program funded by the late Moff Jeris Celia and run by Imperial Remnant Captain Reyov Naolin. Twelve D-34 class TIE-Fighters had been equipped with a scaled-down cloaking device, allowing them to slip into Republic territory unnoticed. They had used the starfighters to take down Republic outposts and star cruisers, causing rumors of ghost ships to fly around the ranks of Starfighter Command. Somewhere along the line, they had earned the "Phantom Fighter" nickname.

Rogue Squadron had been tasked with bringing down the threat, and soon after the initial assignment was given, Darvix had been cleared to fly with Rogue Squadron. He had served as a pilot and slicer, allowing the Rogues to capture one of the Phantom TIEs as well as an Imperial technician charged with heading the project. The operation came to a climax in the Bilbringi system, where Reyov Naolin's fleet had assembled for an assault of Coruscant. It would be Darvix's first, and final, assignment in Rogue Squadron and Starfighter Command.

Among their many victims had been a pilot named Cheriss ke Hanadi, the woman Darvix was to marry. Her death at the hands of the Phantoms had driven him over the edge, causing him to spiral into a fall into the Dark Side of the Force. Finding himself in a situation involving the Phantoms once more was an extremely unnerving thought.

"The Wraiths will help you get in contact with the Wild Karrde," Wedge continued, "but you're going to have to portray yourselves as pirates until they're ready to insert you."

"I understand," Darvix said. "Anything else you can tell me?"

"Not here," Wedge said. "Face will fill you in on the rest of the details once you've met up with him…In the mean-time, as there anything NRI or Starfighter Command can do to assist you?"

"Now that you mention it," Darvix said, "let's go for a quick walk, there are a few things I'll need…"

Kasari watched as the two men left the office. It had been strange, the moment Antilles had stepped into the office, Darvix's entire personality and demeanor changed. Granted, he had tried to insert a few quips, but something within him had changed. For the first time, she saw determination within him.

"Wedge is really the only man Darvix ever had any respect for," Tycho Celchu said, as if reading her thoughts. "He would at least try to act cordial with the rest of the Rogues, save perhaps Horn, but he rarely handed out his trust. Wedge was the one exception."

"I was under the impression that Darvix didn't leave on the best of terms with General Antilles," Kasari replied.

"He didn't leave on good terms," Tycho affirmed. "Darvix was eccentric, and got himself in over his head one-too-many times. He nearly got one of Wedge's squadrons killed towards the end of his tenure…"

"If that's the case," Kasari said, "why did General Antilles request Darvix for this assignment?"

"He'll never tell you this," Tycho said with a smile, "but he's an idealist. He honestly believed that after the Phantom operation had ended, Darvix was on the road to changing himself for the better. This is just his own way of giving Darvix a chance to redeem himself, both in Darvix's own eyes, and the eyes of his fellow Rogues."

***

* * *

"I need another X-Wing and a repair crew to check out mine," Darvix said flatly.

Wedge choked down the caf in his mouth, "That's a tall order, Dap. You know I can't just give away military property like that."

"You're right," Darvix said, "you'll find some sort of loophole, exploit it, and let me run off with a shiny, new T-65AC4 model snub."

Wedge frowned, "I'll see what I can do. No promises, though."

"The moment you said 'I'll see what I can do,' you promised me an X-Wing," Darvix replied. "You've never been a man who says things for the sake of saying things."

"…The Rogues have a surplus X-Wing in storage," Wedge said. "It's an older AC3 model, but our techs can upgrade it to the AC4 design…I'm really going out on a limb here for you, Dap."

"And that's any different than when I served under you?" Darvix asked.

Wedge had put himself on the line for Darvix countless times during his tenure as a Rogue. Any other commanding officer would have suspended him indefinitely for the antics he demonstrated. On the way to Telos, he had suffered a mental breakdown that should have immediately dismissed him from Starfighter Command. On Nar Shaddaa, he had gone AWOL. In the middle of an Imperial Fleet, he tried to kill in Imperial Officer, nearly blowing the cover of his comrades. He had been a ticking time bomb, yet Wedge continued to put up with him. In the end, he should have let Darvix go with a dishonorable discharge and thrown him into prison, but he let Darvix leave on his own terms.

"If you ever decide this Jedi thing doesn't work out for you," Wedge said, "you always could return to the Rogues."

"I don't think so," Darvix replied.

"You've changed," Wedge continued, "you're in control of yourselves these days… You've been gone only six months, but you've matured more than anyone could have expected."

"Perhaps that's true, but if I were in their position, I wouldn't trust myself… I messed up one-to-many times in their eyes."

Wedge shook his head and sighed, "Just remember, there's always a place for you here."

"We'll see."

***

* * *

Darvix sat on the top port-side strike-foil of his X-Wing, watching as the techs hammered away at the electronics below him. They had been in the process of refurbishing his X-Wing for hours now, replacing everything from the hull plating to the avionics. The snubfighter had seen its fair share of action in a rather brief time. It had taken a lot of internal damage when it had been caught in the shadow of an Imperial Interdictor's gravity well, and had been further damaged not long after when he had been ambushed by the Phantom starfighters. She was a dependable bird, and Darvix wanted to make sure she would continue to serve him well.

Across the hanger, technicians were tearing apart another X-Wing, an aging T-65AC3 dated from just after the Battle of Endor. In the years since, the Incom Corporation had made a number of avionic, flight, and structural improvements to the X-Wing design, giving it more speed, strength, and computing capabilities. He had read that the upgrades could be made to an older X-Wing with relatively minor difficulty. The latest line of X-Wings had been dubbed the AC4 model

The moment he knew that Phantom technology was involved with his assignment, he knew that he had to get Lisae a different snubfighter. It was dangerous enough facing an invisible foe in an X-Wing, but it was suicide to try a stunt like that in a sluggish Y-Wing. Granted, the Y-Wing was built to be rugged, but they were the slowest craft in Republic's arsenal. Most Y-Wings had been phased out in favor of the quicker and more powerful B-Wing bomber/fighter. If Lisae had an X-Wing she would stand a chance of escaping. In her Y-Wing, she was a sitting womprat.

He looked to his side as Kasari Lisae sat down next to him. The girl had a tendency to appear out of thin air, a rather annoying habit.

"I didn't know you were a Rogue," she said.

"You also didn't know I enjoy candlelight dinners and long, moonlit strolls on a beach," he replied, looking forward. He didn't feel like answering her questions, no doubt the same ones everyone asked.

"It must have been a wonderful experience," she mused.

"Wonderful isn't exactly the word to describe it," he replied. "The Rogues are just pilots, albeit, very good pilots. The Jedi Academy tells you that there is no such thing as luck, but the Rogues prove us wrong every day."

"Why is it that you're so critical of the Academy?" Kasari asked, a frown on her face.

"Simply because we don't have it right yet," Darvix replied, staring towards the other side of the hanger. "We coddle our students too much. When we send them off on their own, they are completely unprepared for what the Galaxy has in store for them."

"Masters Skywalker and Katarn are trying their hardest," Kasari said.

"Noble effort, sure," Darvix said with a shrug, "but there are no bonus points or consolation prizes given for effort… We're simply not ready to be the Galaxy's great mediators… Sadly, the only way we will become ready for the task is to simply be thrust into the fire. Mark my words, Lisae, the Jedi won't be ready when the New Republic's greatest crisis rears its ugly head."

"I think you fail to give us enough credit."

"Lisae, if you honestly believe that, you're as ignorant as I feared you were."

Darvix stood up on the strike-foil, looking down at Kasari, "This Galaxy is a place of great evil. Most people are trying to survive, and are otherwise good people, but there is just enough corruption to mask those efforts.

"It takes everything a person has to stand up in the face of that. It takes knowledge and wisdom. It takes that so called 'street smarts.' Our students may have the knowledge, but they lack the real-life experiences they need to survive. Jedi have to be a transcendentalist people… They must be part of the Galaxy, to learn from what is around them, to study why things function the way they do, and to share that newfound wisdom with everyone around them. That is where we have failed, Lisae. We keep these students protected in our Academy, never letting them experience the Galaxy, both the good and the bad. We protect them too much."

"What could they learn on their own that they can't learn in the Academy?" Kasari asked, skeptical of what Darvix had said.

"The two most important lessons in the universe," Darvix replied. "First: nothing is as it seems. Second: everybody, regardless of birth, race, or creed, lies."

Kasari shook her head, standing to return Darvix's cold gaze, "I refuse to believe that the Galaxy is as cold as you seem to think it is."

"Keep telling yourself that, Lisae," Darvix said. "Tell yourself that when you're staring poverty down, wondering how some all-powerful Force could let people suffer like that. Tell yourself that when you're forced to cut someone down to protect yourself. The Galaxy is nothing but a festering pit of doom. Our job is to try and provide those suffering within it a glimmer of hope, so they can continue to trudge through the Galaxy's waste."

"You're wrong, Zorvan," Lisae said defiantly.

"Prove me wrong!" Darvix snapped. "I would love nothing more than to find out I'm wrong about the Galaxy, but what would you know? You came from a well-to-do family; you've spent the last five years being nurtured by Skywalker. You've never seen what the Galaxy really has to offer.

"That is why you're still a Padawan and I'm a Jedi Knight," Darvix continued. "You've yet to gain those experiences; you've yet to share that hardship with others. Do you have any idea how vain it is, to claim that as a Jedi you're some 'enlightened' person, when in reality, you've yet to see what the Galaxy has for you to experience?"

"If that's how you view the Galaxy," Kasari said calmly, "then obviously you haven't experienced it either."

"What do you want to call me?" Darvix said. "Misanthropic? Broken? Callous? Do you know why I am the way I am? It's because I've walked through the Galaxy myself. You learn to adapt, or you're not going to make it."

"So you're saying that because you look at the Galaxy in a negative light, you're a better Jedi Knight than I could ever hope to be?"

"No!" Darvix said. "I am the most mediocre Jedi you will ever find. I brought you here because you have the potential to be great, but until you learn to function in the Galaxy, it's just that: potential. I know what you're capable of…your ability to draw upon the Force can make you great, but until you meet the prerequisites, you won't be that Jedi which legends are made of, Lisae."

Kasari shook her head, "You've got nothing to teach me, Zorvan, nothing."

Darvix watched as Kasari slid off the strike foil, walking away from him. He shook his head in disappointment. The Galaxy was going to be a cruel place for her if she refused to open her eyes. Kasari Lisae would simply have to learn the way he did: trial by fire.


	8. Synthetic Diversions

**Chapter Six****  
****Synthetic Diversions****  
**  
It was nearly midnight Coruscant standard when Darvix had finally left the planet's surface. He was slightly disappointed in himself, sitting around for several hours as the technicians pounded away on his X-Wing. He could have used that time for something far more entertaining, perhaps hiring a hooker or two. With a mental shrug, Darvix focused on setting in his hyperspace coordinates.

The technicians had done wonders with his X-Wing. It didn't feel half as sluggish as it used to. The controls were extremely sensitive, responding to even the slightest touch. It was exactly how he liked it. The less work he had to do to maneuver the X-Wing directly translated into more time to think about the course of action he needed to take. Piloting a snubfighter could by a physically demanding task. It required a pilot's entire body to be in shape. Sure, there were exceptions. Perhaps the most infamous was Jek "Piggy" Porkins, the biggest man ever to sit behind the flightstick. What he lacked in physical fitness, he made up for with his ability to think.

Darvix shook his head and smiled. He was always thinking behind the flightstick of his X-Wing. At the Academy, he would spend more time analyzing skirmishes on the fly than attacking the enemy. It had been a tactic that kept his wingmen safe, but translated into low kill totals for him. His peers had remarked that flying seemed to be almost formulaic for him. They had started to call him "Datapad" because of his flying style, always analyzing, always calculating.

Perhaps that was where he had failed as a flier. He never considered the ramifications of his actions. When he was behind the stick, there were just friendlies and foes. All that mattered was the threat indicator and how he could most effectively win a skirmish. Perhaps he had failed because he was too mechanical. Whatever it was, it boiled down simply to the fact he just wasn't made for piloting. He apparently hadn't become a pilot for the right reason. Darvix didn't have a savior complex; he didn't need to save the Galaxy. He had an ambiguity complex; he needed to solve the puzzle.

He recognized idly that he attacked every aspect of life in that manner. There had been a point in time where he had wanted to help those around him, or at least, he thought he had. Those years were behind him. He wasn't the idealistic child he used to be. The Galaxy had dealt him a bad hand of cards several times over, but he knew he wasn't the only person who had suffered in life. What set him apart was the fact that he chose to be honest with himself. Life is hard, life is cruel, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. If the side-effect to that attitude was to be miserable, to loathe ad despise everyone around him, so be it. At least he knew the truth.

His flight console beeped, alerting him that the snubfighter was ready to enter hyperspace. Darvix pushed the hyperspace lever forward, causing the stars to streak past his viewport before it gave way to the molten black and blue tunnel of hyperspace. He undid the chinstrap of his helmet and removed the bulky unit from his head, setting it atop his flight console. Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned back into his flightseat. Within minutes, he had drifted off to sleep.

***

* * *

Darvix looked up at the tall Imperial officer standing next to him. It was like all the holovids he had been shown in school, a man with chiseled features and an aura of power and authority. For a boy such as himself, just fourteen standard years of age, it was like looking up at a man of heroic proportions.

_Sithspit…not this dream, again._

The officer had identified himself as Lieutenant Naolin from the Imperial Fleet, the Emperor's very own fleet. He had spotted Darvix waiting by a speeder stop, waiting for a ride to his home. The officer seemed very friendly, offering Darvix an adhesive sticker that read "Future Soldier of the Emperor." To be in such a man's presence was simply intoxicating.

_Personally I'd rather have my arms ripped out of their sockets by a Wookie than stand next to this bastard._

The Lieutenant had acted friendly towards Darvix. A powerful man that was so kind! Darvix knew that he wanted to become just like that man, but he knew that his cybernetic eyes wouldn't let him join the Navy.

_On hindsight, joining the Imperial Navy wouldn't have been that bright of an idea. If they're too cheap to install shield generators in their snubfighters, they were probably to cheap to give me a steady paycheck._

"I wish I could become a soldier like you," he remembered saying.

"And why do you think you can't?" Naolin asked in turn, offering that warm and inviting smile.

"My eyes, I can't see well enough," Darvix said, sadness tainting the edges of his voice.

"Nonsense," Naolin told him. "If you have a sound mind, the Emperor will welcome you into his service with open arms."

_Sound mind…or if you're willing to be brainwashed, than the Emperor would love to have you, provided he were still alive._

As the officer was about to offer a goodbye and go on his way, there was a shout from a nearby alley. Naolin jumped to his feet and headed into the direction the sound came from.

_I know this is a dream, but it doesn't make this part any easier to swallow._

As any other boy would have, Darvix followed behind Naolin. By the time he had arrived, two blaster shots had already been fired. Naolin was holding a standard issue hand blaster, still hot from the two discharged shots. The wall in front of him was covered in blood, and lying on the ground were two Twi'leks. Next to the two corpses was a young Twi'lek girl, sobbing hysterically as she backed up against the wall.

_It just dawned on me…this dream is so incredibly cliché._

Naolin finally caught sight of Darvix, beckoning him to come closer.

"These three aliens stole from a nearby shop," Naolin said. "This is why the Emperor places men like us in charge, my boy. We keep these vermin in line, and when necessary, we teach them to obey the laws."

_You bigoted bastard. The only 'vermin' here are the two of us._

"I beg of you," the girl said in broken Basic, "we did not do anything, please don't hurt me!"

"The Emperor is a merciful man," Naolin mused, "but sometimes he can not forgive. Sometimes he must have his servants act to preserve the glory of the Empire."

_Merciful, huh? If the Empire had any mercy, I would have gotten the bacta treatment I needed to save my eyes years ago. Glory of the Empire? They had already lost Coruscant and even more starsystems were slipping through their clenched fingers. There was no glory left in the Imperial Remnant, just desperation._

Naolin handed Darvix the blaster he had used to shoot the two Twi'leks. Without hesitation, he took it and looked back at the young alien before him. He could see the pleading in her eyes, but she was too frightened to say anything to him. The tears were streaming down her face. She shook her head, silently begging Darvix to spare her.

_This, of course, is the point where I scream the obligatory "no, don't do it!" in vein. Of course, the end is always the same. I think I gave up trying to change the outcome of this dream months ago._

Yes, the Emperor was a merciful man, Darvix thought to himself, but sometimes there is no room for mercy. He pulled the trigger twice, and a third body lay upon the blood-stained ground.

"The Emperor would be proud of you, my boy."

_There's something to boast about. A xenocidal maniac bent on tearing apart the Galaxy is proud of me…Well, I suppose it's about time to wake up. This is the point where I'm at the peak of my guilt-trip._

***

Darvix lurched forward in his flightseat, stifling a scream. He brought his right hand to his head, rubbing at his temples as his left slowly clenched and unclenched. He hated that dream, he loathed that dream. He had made his amends, hadn't he? Why were his dreams still plagued by that terrible memory? Every time he had fallen asleep in the last six months, he had been awoken by that nightmare. The only way he could get a good night's sleep was to shoot a sedative or other relaxant into his system.

He recognized idly that his hand was still shaking, opening and balling into a fist repeatedly. It happened every time he had the dream. Without thinking, he reached under his flightseat and opened a small compartment, retrieving the black case that held his Spice supply. It was true, he used the Spice because it provided a very enjoyable euphoria, but that wasn't the true reason he had given into its addictive powers. The Spice was a diversion for him. For a brief period of time, it had the power to take his mind off the pains the Galaxy brought him.

Moments later, the Spice had entered his system. He could feel the fog begin to form at the corners of his mind. He sighed contently as the memory of the dream was pushed out of his thoughts, replaced by a completely different, indescribable feeling. With Spice, even the tunnel of hyperspace was captivating. Darvix recognized that it was only his brain being flooded by chemicals, but it didn't stop him from enjoying every moment of his self-induced high.

He chuckled a bit and let himself melt into his flightseat, raising a gloved finger to trace patterns in the tunnel of hyperspace. He closed his eyes once more, softly singing a tune he had loved for years. Maybe after all was said and done, he could disappear into the edges of the galaxy and become a musician once more. Maybe after all was said and done he could find some semblance of happiness in his life.

"Happiness in life," Darvix said to himself, interrupting his own song, "Snowball's chance in Tatooine!"

He let out a hearty laugh before launching back into his song.

***

* * *

It was nearly twenty-four standard hours later when Darvix and Kasari dropped out of hyperspace and into open, unoccupied space, save for one lone ship. Ahead of Darvix was an aging Dreadnaught class cruiser. The ship no doubt was built prior to the Galactic Civil War, for the design had been decommissioned decades earlier. They had fallen into favor with pirate organizations due to their ability to carry a full squadron complement of starfighters as well as a large crew, not to mention the cheap price tag. Most Dreadnaughts that were kicking around at this point in time had been thrown out of active military service. Perhaps the most notable exemption was the fabled Katana fleet, which had fallen into the hands of Grand Admiral Thrawn, thanks in part to strategic blunders by a certain Bothan politician.

"Attention incoming X-Wings," a voice said over his comlink, "identify yourselves immediately or prepare to become space debris."

"Transmitting clearance," Darvix replied. "This is Ewok Nightmare One requesting permission to land."

"With a call-sign like that, how could we refuse?" the voice replied. "Proceed to the hanger, Poster Boy will be out to meet you."

"Acknowledged."

Minutes later, Darvix had set down in the crowded hanger. He powered down his X-Wing and keyed the canopy release. He released his flightseat harness, whistling to himself as waited for a ladder to be brought over to his cockpit. Darvix didn't notice the techs hook the ladder onto the side of his cockpit, nor did he notice Kasari Lisae had climbed up to greet him.

She noticed that Darvix seemed to be rather out of it. He was unresponsive. As she glanced around his cockpit, she caught sight of something strange. On the top of his flight console sat an empty vial and a syringe. Kasari felt confusion overtake her for a moment. Why did he have these things in his cockpit? As she looked back at Darvix, she saw that the sleeve of his flightsuit had been rolled up. His arm was covered with puncture marks indicative of epidermic syringe use.

"Zorvan, what was in this vial?" she asked.

"Oh," Darvix replied, "mostly refined andris in a saline solution."

She couldn't quite believe what he had said. He was joking, wasn't he? Andris was a potent form of Spice, a neurostimulant that had the power to produce incredible euphoria. Hadn't Darvix ever paid attention in school? It didn't pay to do spice. It could kill braincells, it could fry the neurons in his brain. For an otherwise intelligent man, it was an incredibly stupid act.

"Vader's bones," Kasari said. "You're high."

"This is nothing," Darvix said. "You should have seen me about seven hours ago."

***

* * *

"How long until I can talk to Karrde?" Darvix asked as he walked through the corridor.

"He'll be in system in two days," Captain Loran replied.

Darvix had served briefly under Garik "The Face" Loran towards the tail-end of his tenure with the New Republic armed forces. Face had at one point been a child holo-drama star for Imperial propaganda films. He had been caught in the middle of a fight between the Empire and Rebel forces years ago, leading to the belief that he had been killed in the scuffle. Years later, he wound up in the service of Starfighter Command. After kicking around for a while, he was picked up by then-Commander Wedge Antilles to join his experimental Wraith Squadron. Not long after, he was named commanding officer of the unit.

"All of the Wraiths here?" Darvix asked.

"Everyone but Nelprin and Passik."

"Are you trying to turn this into a boys-only club?" Darvix replied. "That's rather juvenile, you little rascal."

Face rolled his eyes, "Wessiri has them working for her back on Coruscant, apparently they're on a treason case."

"Prosecution?"

"Defense," Face said.

Darvix stopped and looked at Face, "You're not happy about that. Who's on trial?"

"Lara Notsil," Face replied, "and I don't have a problem with Iella using two of my subordinates."

"Not that," Darvix said. "You're upset about the trial…You think she's Delta Contact, don't you?"

Press releases over the last several months had covered the case of Lara Notsil's trial. She had been accused of treason and war crimes against the New Republic, beginning with her services as an Imperial strategist. It was believed that her work directly led to the destruction of an entire X-Wing unit. Later, she worked herself into the service of the New Republic military, joining Wraith Squadron. Military analysts theorized she had served as a double-agent for the Empire. When her past identity had been revealed in combat, she had supposedly defected back to Imperial service.

During the Phantom crisis, military operations had been compromised by a person that had become known as "Delta Contact." Intercepted communications showed that someone was leaking classified information to the Imperial Remnant. Delta Contact had led to several ambushes of Rogue Squadron, all of which they had narrowly managed to escape. Perhaps it was bad timing, but when Lara Notsil had come to General Wedge Antilles with information concerning the Phantom Fighters, she was immediately branded as Delta Contact. Now she awaited trial, but the public had already made up their minds: Lara Notsil was guilty.

Darvix didn't agree. He had met with Notsil before she had gone to Antilles with the information he needed. He could see that she meant no harm. In reality, she wanted to bring an end to the Phantom program herself. Unfortunately, it would be an uphill battle for her. Councilor Borsk Fey'lya had taken an interest in the case, and planned to ride it to a re-election. As long as he was pouring in resources, it would be difficult to prove her innocence.

"She's innocent until the trial is over," Face said flatly.

"Not that you care," Darvix replied. "You already convinced that she's guilty. This trial is just a waste of time, why don't they just cut to the chase and execute her?"

"You don't think she's guilty?" Face asked. "I thought you had only been blind as far as vision was concerned. I suppose you're also blind to the cold truth."

"You don't know the truth of the matter any more than I do."

"She appeared out of thin air just as the Phantom program was taking off. That's far too convenient to be a coincidence."

"Stranger things have happened."

"I thought Jedi didn't believe in coincidences."

"How could I forget?" Darvix replied with a sigh. "Everything has its place in the grand master plan of the Force. It's a load of garbage and both you and I know it. Sometimes things happen, sometimes extremely strange things happen, and there's no reason behind it."

"I still believe she's guilty," Face said, moving forward once more.

"Emperor Palpatine believed humans were superior to every other race," Darvix replied. "Just because someone believes in something doesn't make it true."


	9. Nothing is as it Seems

Author's note: This was about the point where I really began to hit my stride as a writer. From here, chapters get quite a bit longer in length (meaning that unlike Rise of a Rogue, there are going to be fewer chapters, but much longer chapters)

**Chapter Seven****  
****The First Rule of the Galaxy: Things are Never as They Seem.**

It had been two days since Darvix had arrived on board the Dreadnaught the Wraiths were stationed on. Now he sat in the cockpit of his X-Wing again, awaiting the infamous Talon Karrde to drop out of hyperspace. Hours earlier, his callsign had been changed to facilitate the mission. At the same time, he had been debriefed by Face Loran concerning his task. Karrde had information that could lead the Republic Military straight to the Seinar Systems techs that were selling functional starfighter-grade cloaking devices. Darvix's task was to negotiate a deal to get that information. After all, he was a Jedi, supposedly the greatest mediators in the Galaxy.

He glanced at his wrist chrono, sighing as he continued to wait for the word to depart the hanger. He was getting impatient, not so much with Karrde, but with Lisae. She had been sulking ever since finding out they were to do business with a group of smugglers. She clung to her idealistic thoughts, subscribing to the belief that smugglers were just fringe criminals incapable of doing any good for the Galaxy. As far as she was concerned, they should just be locked up on Kessel.

"This isn't going to end well," Kasari said over the comlink.

_Here we go again,_ Darvix said to himself.

"I get it," he replied. "You don't like smugglers. Still, have you ever met one?"

"Have you ever met a Sith Lord?" Kasari replied. "Maybe I hate them on principal."

"Get off it," Darvix said. "These smugglers are just like anyone else in the Galaxy, trying to work to survive."

"They work through deception and deceit," Kasari retorted. "If they want to earn a living, they should do it honestly."

"Lisae, sometimes we're forced to turn to deception to accomplish a task. It can be an effective tool, and these smugglers have it down to an art. You use deception in a negative connotation, and perhaps that's warranted. Still, deception can lead to good outcomes."

"But-"

"A few days ago, I told you about the two rules of the Galaxy," Darvix said, cutting her off. "What was the first rule?"

"…Things are never as they seem."

"Exactly," Darvix said. "I want you to keep that in mind over the next few days. When all is said and done, you will have learned to always dig beneath the surface."

"Save the semantics, Zorvan," she said in turn.

Darvix shook his head and shut off the feed to Kasari. She was stubborn, much like himself. Still, he knew that was a good trait. She would stick to her guns when she had made a decision. Now it was simply a matter of showing her enough of the Galaxy. That would instill upon her the knowledge and wisdom she would need in order to properly analyze how to handle difficult situations. That would make her a great Jedi, something he could never hope to be. Darvix knew he was a case-study in mediocrity, but it didn't bother him. It simply was a part of who he was. He didn't have a strong enough connection to the Force to be a truly gifted Jedi.

Lisae was different. He had watched her at the Academy and listened to the stories told about her. She had a remarkable ability to draw upon the Force. Now, if she could learn the life-lessons needed to be a Jedi, and couple that with her strength with the Force, she would become the Jedi that legends were made out of. Until then, she possessed only potential, and that meant nothing until it was honed properly.

His comlink hissed to life, "Mediator One, the Wild Karrde has dropped out of hyperspace, but we've got a problem. We're commencing a battle-alert status, please remain in your snubfighter."

"Bridge, what's going on?" Darvix asked.

"Karrde reports that he's being tailed by a wing of Imperial Remnant Gunboats," the Bridge replied. "He says they're not far off."

"Do we have time to make a jump into a different sector?"

"Negative. The Wraiths are scrambling to their fighters. Stay prepared, we'll have the situation under control in no time."

"I'm heading out there," Darvix said. "It wouldn't hurt to have another set of wings in engagement."

"Negative, Mediator One. You don't have military combat clearance."

Darvix frowned and placed a hand over his helmet mounted microphone, rubbing his fingers along it to simulate static.

"What's that, Bridge?" Darvix asked. "You're breaking up. Did you just say I've got military combat clearance? If that's the case, I'm on my way out."

Darvix grinned to himself as he began his startup sequence, making sure to charge up his laser batteries and deflector shields. He switched his comlink over to the frequency he shared with Lisae.

"Under no circumstances do you follow me," Darvix said. "That understood, Lisae?"

"Zorvan, what the hell are you doing?"

"Couldn't hear you, Lisae, you're breaking up."

Kasari watched as Darvix's X-Wing rose off of the hanger floor and soared into the vacuum of space. Just want was he up to this time?

***

* * *

Darvix looked ahead and saw the Wild Karrde, a heavily modified Corellian Action IV transport. It was the workhorse of Talon Karrde, one of the most infamous smugglers in the Galaxy. He specialized in information, ranging from trade to military intelligence. Over the Years, the Republic had turned to Karrde to uncover data to assist military operations. Karrde was a man who lived on the fringe, but despite that, he had proven time and time again that he could be trusted.

"Wild Karrde, this is Mediator One of the Jedi Academy," Darvix said. "Sounds like you're in a bit of a fix. Need a hand?"

"Good morning, Mediator One," a male voice said over the comlink. "If it wouldn't be too much of a problem, you could vape a wing of Gunboats that aren't far behind us."

"It would be my pleasure, Wild Karrde."

Darvix checked his laser batteries once more, satisfied to see that all four of his X-Wing's cannons were at full power. He configured his weapons system to fire in dual-shot bursts. That allowed for a decent amount of punch per squeeze of the trigger without compromising his re-fire rate. He glanced at his advance sensors, awaiting for the Imperial Remnant gunboats to drop out of hyperspace.

"Could I ask why you've got the Remnant on your six, Wild Karrde?" Darvix asked.

"Oh, nothing big," the voice replied. "We…liberated…some supplies from a Remnant storage facility. Apparently they didn't take too kindly to that."

"Go figure."

Darvix grinned to himself as he flexed his fingers around the flightstick. He hadn't been in a combat situation in over six months; no doubt his skills were rusty. It was probably an idiotic course of action, engaging an enemy despite having been out of military service for so long. At least he wasn't sitting around in the hanger. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was boredom.

"Mediator One, what the hell are you doing out here," Face Loran said over the comlink.

"What, you don't think it's a lovely morning for a joyride?" Darvix replied.

"Not funny, Dap," Face said. "Get back to the hanger."

Darvix looked up at his Friend/Foe readout, smiling to himself as red blips began to appear in front of him, "Negative, Lead. We've got unwelcome guests, and I really don't like people who arrive without an RSVP."

"Damnit, Zorvan!"

Darvix reached for his throttle, setting it to full. At the same moment, he began sifting through his targeting computer, selecting the nearest Gunboat. Imperial Assault Gunboats were aging starfighters that had seen service since the early days of the Rebel Alliance against the Empire. At the time, they were the only starfighters fielded by the Empire that sported deflector shields and ion cannons. Still, Gunboats were underpowered. Its performance could be compared to that of a Z-95 Headhunter, slow and weak.

The first wing of Gunboats was setting up to make a pass at the Wild Karrde. Darvix centered his targeting brackets over the group, firing into the center. The Imperial pilots, obviously surprised, immediately broke off. Darvix pulled back on his stick and began tailing one of the enemy snubs. He gritted his teeth as he pulled back further on his flightstick to keep the enemy target in his sights. Darvix had purposefully scaled back his inertial compensator, allowing to properly feel how his ship was moving. It was a technique that General Antilles had taught him upon his arrival with Rogue Squadron.

He began pouring fire into the rear of the Gunboat, tearing into its shields. Moments later his shots began hitting solid hull, stripping the starfighter of its vital protective plating. Darvix reset his targeting brackets, and squeezed the trigger once more. The final shot tore into the Gunboat's power housing, causing it to explode from the center. Darvix rode his X-Wing through the fireball, circling around to select a new target.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a new X-Wing in the fray. It wasn't painted with the grey stripes of Wraith Squadron, nor the black stripe like his own snubfighter. Instead, it was red. It was the color of the X-Wing given to Kasari Lisae by General Antilles. Darvix cursed aloud. He had told Kasari to wait in the hanger. She didn't have any combat experience whatsoever. He threw his flightstick to the left, aligning himself on Kasari's wing.

He was about to open up a comlink frequency to chew her out, but just then the distinctive green fire of Imperial snubfighters began to rain down on them. Darvix veered away from the fire and readjusted his flight path moments later, only to see a Gunboat on Kasari's tail. Frowning, he moved in to intercept.

"Move, Lisae, move!" Darvix shouted into his microphone. "If you don't start jinking you're a sitting womprat!"

Darvix shunted a portion of power from his shield generators into his engines, giving him a bit more top-speed. He squared his targeting bracket over the enemy once more, switching his laser control to quad-linked fire. It would slow his refresh rate dramatically, but it would maximize the amount of firepower he could deliver with every shot. As the bracket flashed green, Darvix squeezed the trigger and held it down. Before the Imperial pilot could react, Darvix had torn completely through his shields. He squeezed the trigger once more, sending a carefully placed blast into the rear of the enemy snub, causing it to explode in a violent explosion of fuel and durasteel.

As Darvix circled around once more, he noted that his friend/foe indicator was cleared of the red blips of the enemy. Sighing, he relaxed into his flightseat. He noticed idly that has hand was a little sore, he was gripping the flightstick too hard. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. _I sure am out of practice,_ he said to himself.

"Mediator One this is lead," a disgruntled Face said over the comlink.

"I read you, lead," Darvix replied.

"Change of plans. Wild Karrde has a few injured crewmen on board. They'll be docking with us so our medical staff can attend to them. Report back to the hanger."

"Yes, daddy."

"Shut up, Dap."

***

* * *

The moment his canopy had completely opened, Darvix leapt to the ground, hurling his flight helmet to the side. He stormed towards Kasari Lisae's X-Wing. As he reached the hull of the starfighter, he opened a small panel nearby, entering the manual release for the canopy. Darvix yelled up to the cockpit, ordering Kasari to step onto the hanger floor. He watched as she climbed out of the cockpit and stepped onto the floor. Darvix stared at her for a moment, contemplating which course of action he could take. He could calmly reprimand her for her stunt, or give her a thorough dress-down.

"What the hell do you think you were doing, Lisae?" Darvix demanded.

He opted for the thorough dress-down.

"For the love of the Force, you could have gotten yourself killed!" Darvix shouted. "I told you to wait right here until we were clear. Which part of that order didn't you get? The wait part?"

At this point, Darvix was face to face with Kasari, staring her down. Their noses were only a few centimeters apart, close enough for her to see the fury in Darvix's eyes.

"I don't just give orders for the sake of giving orders! Your safety was on the line, so I told you to wait here. What you just did was completely moronic and you know it!"

"But I-"

"But what?" Darvix snapped. "You saw me go out there and assumed it was safe for you to go? Dammit, Lisae! We both know you're going to be a great Jedi someday, but that won't account for anything if you go off and get yourself killed. It's one thing to take risks, but you've got to calculate right!"

"I was fine, I know I can fly!"

"Simulator runs are one thing, real combat is another," Darvix retorted. "You have no formal training to save your sorry ass when you get into a shuffle. I've gone through the training, I've got the flight experience. That was a risk I knew I had the ability to handle, you just ran in there headfirst!"

"As long as I can draw on the Force I'll be okay," Kasari said confidently.

"That's where you're wrong," Darvix said. "Did you see what formation that Gunboat wing heading after you was flying in?"

"Well…no," she admitted.

"Diamond-V form," Darvix said. "It's a dangerous flight-pattern designed to keep at least one wingman on a designated target. Do you know how to counter that?"

"No…"

"By using a wingman to break in opposing directions. That will cause enough confusion for another flight to take care of the enemy, but you didn't know that, did you?"

Kasari was looking at the floor now, a tight frown forming on her face.

"Look up at me when I'm talking to you!" Darvix shouted. "You've got the Force, great. Good for you. Unfortunately the Force is only a supplement to build upon what you already know. If you don't have the prerequisites for flying, the Force won't do you any good.

"The greatest fliers in the history of our military had no connection to the Force. Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, Zev Senesca…They were good because they had instincts and quick minds. They were good because they knew what the hell they were doing. Don't rely on the Force for everything, Lisae. Otherwise you're going to be space debris floating through the Maw."

Kasari brought a hand up to her face, brushing away a stray tear while trying to hold back more.

"Suck it up, Lisae," Darvix said. "No one cares that you just got your feelings hurt. You acted like an idiot, you had it coming."

Darvix looked back at her for a moment before walking away from her to retrieve his helmet. She watched as he hurled it back into his cockpit before leaving the hanger all together. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to put her emotions back in check. She wasn't the kind of person who was accustomed to upsetting her superiors, nor was she the kind of person who was accustomed to being reprimanded for her actions. She hadn't been in trouble like that since she had gone to school as a child.

What struck her was how Darvix had reacted. He was a man who had a complete disregard for the rules, yet the moment she followed his example, he exploded. She had never seen Darvix so furious. Normally, he would have reacted in his normal passive manner, perhaps chiding her with a bit of wit. Instead, he chewed her out. Was he simply a hypocrite? Perhaps. Was that his military background returning to the surface? More likely. Still, there was something else she saw in him as he verbally disciplined her. Unfortunately, it was something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

***

Darvix tapped his fingers against the conference table he sat at. Karrde was running late, and it was beginning to annoy him. He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling, idly counting the ceiling tiles for the fifth time. Based on the dimensions of the room as compared to the dimensions of the tile, he knew there were five hundred and seven tiles, but it never hurt to double-check by counting each individual tile. At least that would help him stave off boredom for a few moments longer.

He let out another sigh and looked at the table again. In the center was a pot of caf and several coffee mugs. He cocked his head to the side and lazily raised a hand towards the caf and mugs. Leaning back in his seat, he stretched out with the Force. He extended his presence outward, encircling a mug and the pot. Gingerly, he raised his hand higher. At the same moment, the mug and pot of caf lifted into the air. Darvix smiled faintly and drew the items towards himself, setting them right in front of him. Scooting to the front of his seat, he poured himself a mug of caf.

As he took a sip from the mug, the door slid open. In walked Face Loran, one man, and one woman. The woman he recognized easily, Mara Jade. She frequented the Jedi Academy regularly to study under Luke Skywalker. Darvix had made a few idle passes at her during his stay at the Academy, only to end up regretting it each time. Regardless of what either said, Darvix knew that Skywalker and Jade were a pair. He had no hope of getting that lucky.

He assumed the man was Talon Karrde, information broker extraordinaire. The man had set up intelligence operations that rivaled the best the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant could offer. He probably had feelers in every corner of the Galaxy, gleaning information to sell to the highest bidder. Darvix wouldn't be surprised of Karrde knew what he had eaten for dinner last night.

"Sithspit," Mara Jade cursed. "Skywalker sent you?"

"That's what you get for lying to Skywalker," Darvix chided. "If you didn't want the assignment, you should have outright told him."

"He sent you to smite me, didn't he?"

"Would you be surprised?"

"You know this Jedi?" Karrde asked.

Mara Jade frowned at Darvix, "Dap Zorvan… He's one of the more…colorful… pupils at the Jedi Academy. Flew with Wedge Antilles' Rogue Squadron before opting for a career change."

"Dap Zorvan," Karrde said to himself. "Ah…yes, you're wanted on Nar Shaddaa, are you not?"

"There's a bounty on my head these days?" Darvix asked. "I'm honored, I think."

"Apparently the Imperials took notice of your slicing ability during your stay with the Rogues," Karrde replied. "Seems as if you ruffled a few feathers."

Darvix grinned. Karrde truly was a master of obtaining information. As far as he knew, the Rogue operation on Nar Shaddaa was still classified. Still, if anyone could get around classified status to obtain knowledge, it was Karrde. Leaning back in his seat, Darvix looked up at Jade and Karrde.

"Let's dismiss the pleasantries, because I'm bored out of my mind," Darvix said. "Seinar Fleet Systems has some techs running loose that were involved with the Phantom project, and they're selling the cloaking device to the highest bidder. I want to know where I can find them, and who's got the cloaking device."

Talon Karrde looked back at Darvix, considering for a moment.

"Mara, Captain Loran, could you excuse us for a moment?" Karrde asked.

Mara Jade and Face glanced at eachother, obviously confused. Reluctantly, both left the conference room, leaving Darvix and Karrde alone.

"As you know the Wild Karrde liberated some supplies from Imperial space," Karrde said.

"I've heard some chatter that a smuggler ring broke into one of their larger supply outposts," Darvix admitted. "I've also heard rumors of what it is that you stole from them…any truth to what I've been hearing?"

"I assure you the rumors are true," Karrde said.

Darvix nodded, "This is a little strange, I've heard you only work in information."

"Every now and then I get the urge to try something different," Karrde said with a shrug.

"Just where are you planning to sell your new merchandise?" Darvix asked.

"Not so much sell," Karrde said. "Actually, not selling at all. We're shipping the supplies to Bevel III."

Darvix nodded and placed a hand over his chin, "I think I see where you're going with this…How much of this deal is going to Bevel III?"

"All of it," Karrde replied.

"Rather generous of you, Karrde," Darvix said. "Keep this up and you're going to loose your fringe status… Alright, name your price."

"Five-hundred million even," Karrde said.

Darvix shook his head, "Not good enough. One billion."

Normally, bartering didn't work this way. Typically the buyer would try to negotiate a lower price, not double the price asked for by the seller. Both Darvix and Talon Karrde seemed to find the entire situation amusing, for they could barely keep the grins off their faces. Both men knew that they had thoroughly ripped off the Republic, and both men were greatly enjoying that fact. The two men obviously knew something that made the entire situation hilarious to them. If a Republic official had witnessed the "bartering" Darvix had just performed, they would have died of cardiac arrest.

"You're letting me milk the Republic Military," Karrde noted. "I think I like you."

"Do we have a deal then, Karrde?" Darvix asked.

"One more thing…I want starfighter escort," he added. "I'd like to hire you for the job."

"Are you suggesting I can be bought off like some backwater mercenary?" Darvix asked, raising a brow. "Karrde, I'm honored. You've got yourself a deal. Soon as I can hail NRI, I'll get you the credits courtesy of Airen Cracken."

Talon Karrde offered Darvix his hand, causing Darvix to finally rise from his chair and shake the other man's hand.

"Zorvan, you're deceptive and a total cheat," Karrde said. "If you're ever looking for work, don't hesitate to give me a call."

"Karrde, you're the bastard father I never had," Darvix replied with a wide grin.

***

* * *

One billion credits!?" Face asked. "You've got to be kidding me! Cracken is going to have my head over this…"

When Face and Mara Jade had returned to the conference room, Darvix had told them that both he and Talon Karrde had reached a deal in exchange for the information regarding the Seinar Fleet Systems techs. When he finally told them how many credits had just been exchanged, both Face and Jade stared in silence. Darvix imagined that Jade was simply stunned that Karrde had managed to squeeze that many credits out of the Republic. Face, on the other hand, soon overcame his loss for words. He had been yelling at Darvix for the last ten minutes.

"You're not the one that negotiated the deal," Darvix replied with a shrug.

"Negotiate? You call that negotiating?"

"Okay, okay," Darvix said. "Next time you can try and barter a deal with the big-time smuggler."

"That's not the point!" Face replied.

"Aww, did I hurt the little intelligence agent's feelings?" Darvix asked in a sarcastic tone of voice.

"Damnit, Dap," Face said. "I can't believe you wasted one billion Republic credits. Do you have any ideas what we could have used those funds for?"

"Hmmm…how about deferring that money back into the government, so it can be wasted on frivolous meetings, lunch appointments, and other beurocratic farces?"

Face shook his head, "I don't think our politicians waste resources like that."

"Everybody lies, Face," Darvix retorted. "_Especially_ politicians."

"And you think Karrde could use that money in a more resourceful manner?" Face asked. "You are such a pessimist."

"No, I'm a realist," Darvix said in turn. "Have you seen the High Council's expense report?"

Face sighed, "No, because it's classified."

"It is?" Darvix asked, feigning shock. "Whoops, must have accidentally sliced into those records. You'll forgive me, won't you? We're friends, after all."

"You know, in some cultures it's considered improper to spy on other people, particularly if those people are on the High Council…Then again, in Bothan, friend can be translated as 'sarcastic bastard.'"

"You know," Darvix said, "I ought to take lessons in wit from you. What's your going price these days?"

"I think you'll manage."

***

* * *

"One billion credits!?" Kasari asked, stunned.

"For the love of the Force," Darvix replied. "Is everyone going to have that reaction? Yes, one billion credits, New Republic currency. Is that so hard to understand?"

"And now we're stuck working for these fringe bastards?" Kasari said. "Wow, Zorvan. You sure know how to pick 'em."

"Temper, temper," Darvix chided. "If you're getting homesick, you can head back to Yavin."

"Someone has to watch you and make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"You sure have been failing at that task, haven't you?"

"You're a piece of work, Zorvan," Kasari said.

Darvix smiled and looked above him, making the precise adjustments to his flight control. According to the deal he had just made, both he and Kasari would be riding along with the Wild Karrde to Bevel III, just in case they ran into trouble along the way. Since the Action IV transport wasn't a cruiser like the Dreadnaught the Wraiths were stationed aboard, their X-Wings would have to be docked onto the hull of the ship itself. Above him was a tube designed to attach to his cockpit housing, forming a seal to protect him against the vacuum of space. That would allow him to step onboard the Wild Karrde.

He gave the lateral repulsorlifts one more thrust before the tube made contact with the hull of his X-Wing. He heard a hissing sound as the seal formed, allowing air to enter the passageway onto the Wild Karrde. Hopefully Kasari had managed to dock with the unit on the port side of the ship. He removed his flight helmet, setting it atop his flight console as he released the seal on his canopy, allowing it to slide into the open position. As the canopy opened, a service ladder slid down from the hatch above him, coming to rest on the hull of his X-Wing. Grabbing a hold of one of the rungs, he began to climb up. As he moved up the ladder, he felt the gravitational orientation shift. To someone who wasn't prepared for it, the shift could cause feelings of incredible motion sickness within a person. No doubt Kasari was emptying her stomach of lunch at that very moment.

As he climbed through the hatch and stepped onto the Wild Karrde's floor, he was greeted by Mara Jade.

"Welcome aboard the Wild Karrde," she said. "Try not to break anything."

"Lovely place," Darvix said. "I've been meaning to ask you this, Jade, but how is it going between you and Skywalker?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's funny," Darvix noted. "It seems that only you and Skywalker have no idea what I'm talking about, yet the rest of the known Galaxy does."

"There's nothing going on between us," Jade said.

"Does that mean we're on for dinner tonight?" Darvix asked.

"Dap, the one person who has less of a chance with me than Skywalker is you," she replied, walking away from him.

"How about a nightcap, then?"

With that, Mara Jade drew her blaster, aiming it and firing it at the ground in front of Darvix.

"I was always under the impression that you were a better shot than that," Darvix said.

"I am," she replied. "Next time I'll fire and make it so you'll never have children."

"Duly noted."

Darvix watched as Mara Jade walked out of the room. Shaking his head, he added another win into Mara's column, and another loss into his.

***

* * *

"Where's that second pilot you brought with you?" Karrde asked.

"Pent up in her quarters," Darvix replied. "She has a thing against smugglers, thinks you're all a bunch of fringe bastards who rape, pillage, and plunder everything you come across."

"Rather shallow opinion of us."

"Think of her as the female equivalent to Corran Horn," Darvix said.

"Corran Horn with PMS," Karrde mused. "Now there's a thought that could give a man nightmares."

"That," Mara Jade said from her console, "is a mental image none of us needs."

Darvix grinned and looked through the forward viewport of the Wild Karrde. They had slipped into hyperspace several hours ago and were on route to Bevel III. The flight was a relatively quick one, taking only a full day to complete. Once in-system, Darvix and Kasari would fly escort and bring the Wild-Karrde in for landing. They would help off-load the supplies Karrde had stolen form the Empire, and then would be on their merry way back to Coruscant to report for debriefing. Karrde would be responsible for transferring the money he had just acquired from the Republic into new hands.

"So, Dap, tell me," Jade asked, "why did Skywalker send you?"

"Well, he wanted me to deliver a hand-written love letter for you," Darvix replied, "but I lost it back on Coruscant. It was something sickeningly mushy-"

"Dap," Jade interrupted, "you're on the fast-track to pain."

"Fiery as always," Dap noted. "Truth is General Antilles requested me. Apparently he's lost his sanity."

"I'll second that."

Darvix chuckled and turned on his heels, making his way off the bridge, "If anyone needs me, I'll be invading your food stores."

***

* * *

As Darvix stepped into the makeshift mess-hall on board the Wild Karrde, he bumped into Kasari Lisae.

"You've finally decided to end your time-out, Lisae?" Darvix asked, pushing past her.

"Where have you been?" Kasari asked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you on your comlink."

"Sorry, batteries died," he replied.

"You do know you can recharge them, right?"

"Really?" Darvix asked. "I've just been buying new comlinks. Learn something new every day."

Darvix stepped up to a cabinet, opening it and sifting through the military-grade rations to find something that didn't cause his stomach to protest. If there was anything worse than the New Republic Military rations he had endured during his tenure as a snubfighter pilot, it was the Imperial rations stocked on the Wild Karrde. With a mental shrug, he withdrew a case of pre-cooked gravy and gizka.

"Skywalker lied to me, didn't he?" Kasari asked.

"About what?"

"About you being able to teach me how to be a Jedi," she replied. "All I've seen is how to con the New Republic out of a billion credits. He just sent me to keep an eye on you, didn't he?"

"Skywalker didn't lie," Darvix said in turn, heaving a sigh as he tasted the contents of the container.

"I thought you said everybody lies?" Kasari asked.

"I lied," Darvix replied.

"Honestly, did you become a Jedi just to have a bigger audience to torment?"

"I have my reasons, Lisae," Darvix said. "That's all you need to know… To elaborate on your first question, Skywalker didn't lie. He told you the truth when saying that I selected you personally to accompany me."

"So why did you select me?"

"Simple," Darvix said with a shrug, "you're beautiful. Gorgeous. A looker. Centerfold material for adult grade datapad feeds."

Kasari stared at Darvix, her jaw dropped slightly, "You've got to be kidding me. You chose me because I look good? I'm one of the best in my class! You're telling me it's not my merit, but my looks that landed me here?"

"Oh relax," Darvix replied. "It's a compliment. It's the nature of nearly every sentient being to take the easy route. You could have married some rich politician or business owner and be living the life of luxury. Instead, you choose the hard route. You decided to work your cute little butt off to become a Jedi. It speaks volumes about your character and personality, you work hard."

"You're an ass," Kasari replied. "I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Darvix said. "I wonder why…"

Realizing that there was no way to get a half-way mature answer out of Darvix, Kasari simply walked out of the mess-hall. Darvix simply shrugged and took another bite of his meal, wincing as the taste hit his tongue.

"Wonder if she can cook…" he said to himself.

***

* * *

The moment the Wild Karrde had dropped out of Hyperspace, Darvix detached his X-Wing from the magnetic link holding him to the hull of the transport. As he reoriented his snubfighter, Darvix saw the outline of Bevel III. At first glance, it was a rather unassuming planet. Like many other worlds in the Galaxy, Bevel III was a fine mixture of ocean and land. Because of this, there were two big industries on the planet: agriculture and fish and game.

Darvix checked his sensor readout, noting that the immediate space around him was clear of any enemy contacts. All he could spot were cargo transports heading towards various hyperspace vectors. Normally, this would have been enough to comfort him. He would have relaxed except for one nagging fact.

Bevel III was an Imperial-controlled planet.

"Scopes check out to be clear, Wild Karrde," Darvix said into his comlink. "Dropping back to escort formation."

"Acknowledged, Mediator One," replied Mara Jade over the comlink. "Here's to a peaceful drop-off."

"Agreed," Darvix said as he glanced through the right side of his viewport. "Mediator two, tighten up. We're flying escort here."

"Sithspit," Kasari said as her X-Wing stutter-stepped towards Darvix. "These controls are too sensitive."

"You're just used to the clumsy flight controls offered at the Academy," Darvix replied. "These are precision tools used by the military; don't force action out of it. She's just an extension of your body."

"That was almost elegant," Kasari mused as she continued to ease her X-Wing closer to Darvix.

"The breakdown of a pilot," Darvix said. "Fifty percent soldier, thirty percent machine, and twenty percent poet."

"Enlightening," Kasari replied. "Care to tell me where we are?"

"You're no fun," Darvix said, allowing a mock-hurt tone to tinge his voice. "If you must know, we're traveling towards Bevel III."

There was silence over the comlink for a few minutes, but Kasari finally replied, "I'm not seeing Bevel III in my database."

"No reason why you should, this is Imperial-controlled space."

For another long moment, there was silence over the comlink. Darvix smiled to himself as he made another minor correction to his flightpath, watching as Bevel III steadily grew larger in his viewport.

"That's not funny, Zorvan."

"It shouldn't be funny, it's the truth."

"…You mean to tell me," Kasari replied, "that not only are we working with smugglers, but we're cutting a deal with the Empire?"

"In essence, yes," Darvix continued as he slightly increased his throttle power. "Just remember, Lisae…Nothing is as it seems."

***

* * *

As much as it surprised Darvix, the flight into Bevel III was uneventful. No technical malfunctions, no disputes with planet security, and perhaps the most shocking, no run-ins with the Imperial Remnant. The Wild Karrde and her escort had set down near the capitol of the planet, a relatively small town bordering a sea-port. The moment he had set foot on solid ground, Darvix was confronted by Kasari Lisae.

"We've escorted them in, now let's get the hell out of here," Kasari said, casting a glare at her superior.

"Not yet," Darvix said. "We need to help get supplies moved."

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"Did I forget to mention that part?" Darvix asked. "Silly me."

"We're already in for ripping the New Republic out of an immensely large sum of money," she replied, anger and frustration beginning to tinge her voice. "Now you want to conspire with the Empire? You may not care about your life, but I do. We're leaving, now."

"You don't want any part in this?" Darvix asked. "Fine. Leave, go back to Yavin IV and resume your sheltered little training…However, if you really care about becoming a Jedi, if you really care about learning how the Galaxy works, you will follow me."

Darvix returned her cold gaze, refusing to betray the slightest hint of emotion in his features. He had engineered this event to be a powerful lesson for her, but it would be useless if she chose to turn her back on him now. Still, he could not control her thoughts. She was as stubborn and headstrong as he was. This would be a moment of truth for her, one that would determine how far she could go with him. Darvix knew he had things to teach her, but it was pointless if the pupil refused to learn.

Kasari heaved a sigh and slumped her shoulders in defeat. With a nod, she turned and strode towards the Wild Karrde to assist with the cargo unloading.

***

* * *

As Kasari Lisae looked about the town, she realized with a jolt of horror that it was in extremely poor shape. She had noticed unnerving details as she flew in, drought conditions plaguing many of the fields she passed over, unnaturally devastaded landscape. The town looked no better. Many of the buildings had collapsed, leaving piles of rubble in its place. What could have caused such destruction?

"Bevel III has been plagued by a series of natural disasters," Darvix said. "First it was flooding, then there was drought…This time it's been a series of quakes and geological disturbances."

"Why hasn't this been on the newsfeeds?" Kasari asked.

"There's a lot of planets in our Galaxy," Darvix replied. "Sometimes a world like this gets lost in the shuffle."

"…because it's an Imperial world."

"Yes," Darvix said quietly.

Kasari looked up at Darvix, somewhat surprised to see the emotions surrounding his entire being. As she stretched out with the Force, she could feel that the normal apathy and callousness that plagued his very being weren't there. Instead, all she could feel was a sense of sympathy.

It had taken ten cargo speeders to bring all the supplies into the town. Long before Darvix had agreed to join Karrde, the stolen goods had been crated up and concealed to avoid altercations with various customs agencies. Now that they had finally overcome those obstacles, Karrde and his men could finally tear down the crates. Among the first items to roll out of the speeders were large barrels filled with a rather viscous liquid.

"Vader's bones," Kasari cursed. "This is bacta…How much is Karrde making on this?"

"Nothing," Darvix replied.

"What do you mean, nothing?" she asked in turn, casting a confused glance at Darvix.

Darvix shook his head in apparent disappointment as he helped to lift another barrel onto a smaller repulsorlift-powered tram. He walked alongside the barrels as it approached a small, rather unassuming building. Darvix walked up to the metal doors alongside Mara Jade, leaving Kasari to watch in continued confusion. As the door opened, a young woman stepped out to greet the visitors.

"Who are you?" she asked wearily. "Please…we've got nothing here but children-"

Darvix held up a hand, "Ma'am, it's alright…My name is Darvix Zorvan… I'm a Jedi Knight representing the Jedi Academy and the New Republic Mercy Corps. We know you've fallen on some tough times here, and we know you are perilously short on supplies…"

It was then that the young woman looked past Darvix and Mara Jade. As her eyes fell upon the tram filled with barrels of bacta and boxes, her hands came up to her face in shock. Soon after, the tears began to flow.

"The smuggler Talon Karrde recently came across surplus medical supplies and foodstocks," Mara Jade said, following up what Darvix had said. "One of his men stationed here told us you could use this."

"Please," the woman said, "come in."

With a nod, Darvix motioned for the supplies to be brought into the building. As the tram passed him, Darvix picked up a large box, placing it on his shoulder. He stepped into the building, followed by a bewildered Kasari Lisae. Inside, she would see a sight that would become engrained in her mind for as long as she lived. Inside was a sight that could tear at the emotions of the most seasoned war veteran.

"They're all children," Kasari whispered.

"This is the Deltine Orphanage," Darvix said. "It had been overrun and understaffed before the quakes…but you can see what it's become now."

It seemed that every possible centimeter of the building had been filled by a bed, each one home to a child. Some were in their teens, but others were barely out of infancy. It brought several emotions into play within Kasari. At one moment, she felt incredible sympathy, but the next, she only felt sick. It seemed so wrong that something so terrible could happen to children such as these.

"This place has been converted into a home and a hospital for these children," Darvix continued, casting an eye on a small human boy curled up on one of the beds. "Upstairs is a triage and makeshift medical facility…A few doctors work here out of the kindness of their hearts, but they routinely can't come across the supplies they need to help the children.

"Many of them had been wounded in the initial quakes. Even more had lost loved ones, be it family or friends. If you want to say that the children here were fortunate enough to survive, it's important to realize they still face an uphill battle. Many are sick, many more are dieing…This place breeds nightmares for children, but it's the best they have."

"Why hasn't the New Republic stepped in?" Kasari asked. "I know this is an Imperial world, but-"

"They made an offer," Darvix said, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. "They said that if Bevel III chose to pledge its allegiance to the New Republic, then aid would flow freely."

"So why didn't the government accept the Republic's offer?" Kasari asked, mentally wincing as she slowly walked past a young rodian girl who seemed to be missing her arm.

"Fear," Darvix replied. "The people of Bevel III had already gone through so much, but what if the Empire caught wind of this? Of course, this world was the Imperial Remnant's responsibility, but with them being drawn so thin, there's no hope they could help a world like this… Still, it was better than potential retaliation."

"You mean…" Kasari started, "You mean the New Republic was using the people's suffering as leverage to get them to join?"

"That," Darvix said demurely, "is the sad truth of it all. These people have been caught in the middle of a power struggle…and now you look at the casualties."

With that, Darvix set the box he had been carrying down on the floor, "Karrde told me to open this box up myself and deliver the contents…there's a few more on the tram that are being distributed as we speak."

"What is it?" Kasari asked.

Darvix shook his head, "I don't know."

He opened the box and looked inside. Kasari tilted her head as she tried to gague his reaction. At first, she could sense an aura of confusion about Darvix, but it was quickly replaced with something entirely different, a feeling of admiration.

"Karrde," Darvix said quietly, "you've got class…"

Slowly, Darvix pulled out a small object, no bigger than some of the ration boxes they had brought with them. As she stepped closer, she saw what he was holding: a small, stuffed animal. The box was full of them, toys for the children here at the orphanage. She watched as Darvix moved to the bedside of a small Twi'lek girl who laid there. Kasari could see that she was crying softly as Darvix tapped her on the shoulder. She sat up, looking at Darvix with a hint of fear in her eyes.

"It's okay," Darvix said quietly to reassure her, "I'm here to give you a gift…a nice man named Talon asked me to give this to you."

Carefully, gently, Darvix placed the stuffed toy into the arms of the girl. She glanced at it, confused. As she looked back at Darvix, she saw a man who had a genuine smile upon his face. Whenever Kasari would think back upon that, she would realize that it was the first real smile that Darvix had ever displayed. Kasari would discover that those smiles were a rare thing for him.

As Darvix was just about to sit up, the girl threw her arms around Darvix, murmering a quiet 'thank you' for what he had done. For a moment, Darvix seemed to be at a loss, but he quickly regained his composure.

He returned the hug.

***

* * *

It was nightfall when Darvix and Kasari had finally left the orphanage. The medical facility was well supplied now, and the doctors had gone back to work tending to the sick and injured children there. Kasari had watched each time Darvix sat or knelt beside a child to deliver them the toy he held. Every time, the reaction was the same. Surely, this hadn't been the same Darvix that she had spent the last few weeks with. This man had to be someone different, but every time she stretched out with the Force, she got the same result. He genuinely cared about what he was doing.

As she was climbing up the ladder to enter the cockpit of her X-Wing, Darvix stepped up to her.

"I hope you see what I mean now," Darvix said quietly. "Sometimes the truth is hidden behind a cloak of deception… Both of us felt at some point in our lives that the New Republic could do no wrong. Granted, the Empire has hurt these people greatly, but we were no better. I can assure you that at one point in time, I felt the same way about smugglers as you did…but you've seen what Karrde has to offer.

"Talon Karrde has been a secret member and contributor to the New Republic Mercy Corps for several years now. His intelligence networks have helped round up supplies that either he or other smugglers have delivered to people in need. The smugglers we've been working with are like anyone else. Sometimes they just get the urge to give back to the Galaxy."

Darvix looked up into the night sky for a moment before looking back at Kasari, "Sometimes we're sure that what we see in front of us is the cold truth. At times, that may be right, but sometimes, it simply isn't true… That's why I tell you that nothing is as it seems. That's why I repeat that mantra to you, because you should always dig beneath to surface to discover the truth…That alone will make you perhaps the most successful Jedi of this era."

Kasari watched as Darvix walked away to his own X-Wing. She wanted to ask why he seemed so different, why he seemed so human for a change. Eventually, she decided against it. Darvix had his reasons, his own way of functioning. It may be difficult for her to comprehend, but she finally understood what Master Skywalker had told her.

Darvix was unorthodox and, at times, completely unethical. Still, he was a teacher, and he knew how to get his point across.


	10. Moving Up

**Chapter Eight  
Moving Up**

It had been three weeks since Kasari Lisae had last seen the jungle forests of Yavin IV. Before she had left Bevel III, she had learned that Karrde and his men would continue their goodwill mission, spreading funds and supplies to various locations all over the planet. After Darvix and Kasari left, they had backtracked to Coruscant. Darvix had said that he had some business to attend to, but never specified as to what. After a few days, they began on their final leg back to Yavin.

As the canopy lifted, the hot and humid air hit her. Smiling to herself, she exited her X-Wing and stepped onto the cooler duracrete surface. When she had dropped out of hyperspace, Darvix wasn't on her sensor readouts. She had assumed that he had arrived ahead of her and had already set down, but his X-Wing wasn't anywhere to be found within the hanger. That was odd; he hadn't said that he was going to be late on arrival to Yavin IV. Knowing Darvix, he was probably taking a side-trip to restock his spice supply.

Kasari left the hanger and took an elevator to one of the higher floors, giving her access to several walkways that led to the dormitories. She walked up to her dorm room, a two-person residence she shared with another student at the Academy. It appeared that Kasari's roommate wasn't in, which didn't bother her all that much. Her roommate was a ditz anyways. With a shrug, she made her way to the refresher. Kasari caught a glance of herself in the wall-mounted mirror, frowning at her appearance. Spending all that time cramped in a cockpit had turned into a nightmare for her hair. Sighing, she pulled her hair out of the ponytail it was in ran her fingers through it. She had her mother's hair, a dirty-blonde that was a nightmare to hold in check.

As she stripped out of her flightsuit and clothes to step under the hot water of the refresher, she found her thoughts wandered back to Darvix. He was an interesting man to say the least, a complete bastard to be honest. Still, there was something about him that kept him on Kasari's mind, but what was it? She acknowledged it was probably the fact that he was so incredibly broken. Whatever had happened to him in the past had obviously left a great deal of emotional scarring on him. Of course, that then begged the question: could he be a Jedi if he still had his demons of the past clinging to him?

She turned the stream of water and dried off, wrapping the towel around her frame as she stepped back into her room, moving towards her closet. Did Darvix really hate everyone, or was it just a façade? Back on Coruscant, he had left flowers and a small note infront of the holoimage of a deceased Rogue pilot. Was Darvix close to her before she had died? If that was the case, perhaps he was trying to prevent himself from growing close to someone like that again.

That was a normal reaction as far as Kasari was concerned. Now, why was Darvix always acting so cruel towards her? As far as Kasari could tell, Darvix was harder on her than anyone else he came in contact with. What could that mean? If she wanted to find out, Kasari would have to dig through countless barriers he had put up around himself. Still, it didn't hurt to try and figure out why Darvix acted that way.

The most obvious answer was that Darvix was a misanthrope. That was probably true, he did act as if he hated everyone and everything around him. The Galaxy seemed to be there only to annoy him. What else could there be? Maybe Darvix just hated women in general. Had he had his heart broken before? Perhaps he was gay. It sure would explain a lot, his pension for wearing odd-colored casual-wear shoes with every outfit he had, the fact that he always seemed to hang around Skywalker while at the Academy.

Or perhaps Darvix liked Kasari. He had the maturity of an eight-year-old at times. What did eight-year-olds do to girls they liked? Shoved them around and hurt their feelings. If Kasari was right about Darvix and the deceased Rogue pilot, than perhaps he was being cruel to Kasari in order to keep her away from him. That way he wouldn't be hurt again by loss. Could it be that Darvix had feelings for her?

Before she could contemplate that thought any further, her comlink went off.

"This is Lisae," she said into the device.

"Padawan Lisae, please report to Master Skywalker's chambers for debriefing," a voice said through the comlink.

"I'm on my way," she replied as she sifted through her closet for her Jedi robes.

***

* * *

"…and with the deal in place, Captain Loran forwarded the information to NRI and Rogue Squadron," Kasari said.

"Well that's good to know, I'm sure that information will help the New Republic greatly," Luke replied.

"But one billion credits?" Kyle Katarn asked. "Good night, that's terrible."

"…Well, it's not as bad as you think," Kasari said sheepishly.

"Care to elaborate?" Luke asked.

Kasari sighed and took a breath, "Part of the arrangement was for both myself and Jedi Knight Zorvan to fly escort for the Wild Karrde into Imperial Space."

"This was Zorvan's idea?" Kyle asked. "Brace yourselves."

"I'm on the edge of my seat, giddy with anticipation," Luke replied sourly.

"We arrived in the Bevel system, heading towards Bevel III," Kasari continued. "The planet had been devastated by a series of natural disasters over the last few years, the most recent being a set of enormous geological disturbances that have decimated the population numbers of the world. We set down outside of the capitol city, where I discovered that Zorvan had secretly signed both of us up for a Mercy Corps mission."

"Mercy Corps?" Kyle said skeptically. "You sure this is Darvix we're talking about?"

"I was as surprised as you are," Kasari said. "Talon Karrde had liberated supplies from an Imperial storage yard with the sole intent on giving those materials to the people of Bevel III. The funds he received in exchange for the intelligence information went directly to the people as well. Zorvan and I only stayed long enough to deliver supplies to one location, an orphanage in the middle of the city."

"Not an intended part of your assignment, but I think I can let it slide this time," Luke said. "Kasari…as you probably could have guessed, this entire mission was a test for you. Darvix has been sending me status reports the entire time you were away to let both Kyle and I know how you performed."

Kasari wasn't sure whether to be worried or to feel sick. Darvix had been monitoring her status the entire time? She couldn't even begin to fathom what he had written. _Completely naive, but definitely centerfold material,_ or perhaps _Completely and utterly useless, but one hell of a looker._ She could feel herself slowly becoming more and more nauseous as she considered the possibilities.

"He spoke rather highly of you," Luke continued. "Reaffirmed everything your instructors have said about you; incredible potential but lacks experience. Of course, that isn't your fault. We haven't been exactly religious about sending our students into the Galaxy. Long story short, Kasari, Darvix feels you performed well on your first assignment."

"Thank you, Master," Kasari said softly, finding herself staring at the ground below her feet.

"You've got no one to thank but yourself this time," Luke replied. "I hate to sound like a school teacher, but what do you think you learned out there?"

Kasari thought for a moment before replying, "The first thing Darvix tried to pound into my head: nothing is as it seems. I wish I had taken that into account before I had gotten on his case for every decision he made. Turns out smugglers aren't as bad as everyone makes them out to be, and our Government isn't as picture perfect as we hope it would be…"

Luke nodded his acknowledgement, "We have been lobbying the New Republic to give aid to Bevel III for some time now…It's disappointing that it took sheer deception by one of our own to accomplish that goal, but at least they've got the resources they've needed… Thank you Kasari, I'll call you back if I have any further questions."

Kasari nodded and bowed slightly, turning and walked out of the chambers, leaving Kyle and Luke alone.

"On the surface, that sure doesn't sound like something Darvix would have done," Kyle said.

"Of course, you look at the methodology used to get to the end result, and it sounds exactly like something Darvix would have done," Luke replied. "Lie, cheat, and steal to get what you need."

"Well, a wise philosopher once said 'You can't always get what you want,'" Kyle mused. " 'But if you try sometimes, you get what you need.' Luke, we weren't just grading Kasari's performance, where we?"

"You know me too well," Luke said as he leaned against one of the large pillars beside him, "This was more of a test for Darvix than anything."

"You were gauging him to see if he's really recovered from his Fall, weren't you?"

"Precisely," Luke said in turn. "How do you think he did?"

"Other than the whole deception thing, great," Kyle admitted. "He got the information, and managed to take care of one of our long-standing side tasks while he was at it."

"How would you rate him as a teacher?"

"His semantics seem to have rubbed off on Kasari," Kyle noted. "I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, though… Lisae probably is a better student after her time with Darvix, I'll admit. Why do you ask?"

Kyle looked at Luke for a moment before realization hit him like a Corellian transport at full speed, "Sithspit you've got to be kidding me. Him? He's one of the most mediocre Jedi's we've got here!"

"Think of him more like a shockball coach," Luke said. "They weren't the greatest players, but they knew the game in and out. They may not be able to play the game as well as others, but they could teach it."

"I can't believe you're honestly considering this," Kyle gasped. "Are you feeling well? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's a side-effect from serving as Rogue Squadron's CO for so many years," Luke noted. "Not very good for your long-term health."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan hadn't been in his room for more than ten minutes when his comlink went off. Groaning, he sat up from his dinner table and strode over to his dresser, picking it up and thumbing it on.

"You've reached the House of Pain, are you interested in our basic service plan, or are you looking for a one-on-one with one of our lovely dominatrixes?"

"Shut up, Darvix," Kyle replied over the comlink. "Skywalker wants both you and Lisae in the audience chambers now."

"Can this wait?" Darvix asked. "I just put on my leather-"

"Finish that sentence and you will suffer."

"Yes, Master," Darvix replied, heaving a sigh as he flipped off his comlink and threw it onto his bed.

He ran a hand over his face, wondering idly if he should bother shaving, since he hadn't since he left the Academy three weeks earlier. He quickly dismissed that thought and walked out of his room and down the hall, still dressed in his casual civilian wear. Now, what could he have done this time to earn a disciplinary hearing? Sure, there was the whole ripping the New Republic out of one billion credits thing, and the slipping off into Imperial space without authorization, not to mention the hooker he tried hiring on his return trip to Coruscant, but none of that was out of the norm for him. Well, the billion credits was a bit of a stretch as far as his con games were concerned, but the concept was the same.

He stepped into the viewing chamber and felt his stomach rise up into his throat. The chamber was filled with students, Knights, and the few Masters the Academy had. This wasn't a disciplinary hearing, it was far, far worse.

"Jedi Zorvan, Padawan Lisae," Luke said from the front of the room, "Please step forward."

Begrudgingly, Darvix walked towards the front of the chambers, standing next to Kasari Lisae and in front of Luke Skywalker. Yes, it was terrible. This was a ceremony to award someone the rank of Jedi Knight. Oh, the places he'd rather be. He could be having his eyes gouged out with a vibroblade, or perhaps he could be fed feet first into a garbage shredder.

"I'm missing a rerun of Galactic Hospital, I hope you know," Darvix said towards Skywalker.

"Record it next time," he replied. "Holo-soaps are overrated anyways."

Darvix rolled his eyes and covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. He glanced over at Kasari, who head a dewback-in-the-headlights look upon her face. She was frightened and confused, probably wondering why she was here, standing beside Darvix. That fact alone meant this couldn't be a good thing. No doubt he had gotten Kasari into trouble.

"It is with great pleasure," Luke said, addressing the beings in the room, "to introduce to you the newest member of our Jedi Knight ranks. Kasari Lisae, you have proven yourself ready to enter fully into the Jedi Order to protect and serve our Galaxy. Congratulations."

Applause filled the room as Kasari could only stare at Skywalker. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she finally achieved the rank, but it still didn't stem the flood of emotions to wash over her. She had finally done it, she was finally a Jedi Knight.

"Wonderful," Darvix said. "Good for you, can I go now? I still can catch the forty-five minutes of the show."

"I would also like to introduce you to Darvix Zorvan," Luke continued, ignoring Darvix's comments. "Jedi Zorvan took Kasari under his wings to give her the final lessons needed to become a Jedi."

"Is this really necessary?" Darvix asked. "Time's a-wasting, Skywalker."

"Darvix proved himself to be a capable teacher," Skywalker said. "As a result, Jedi Zorvan has been chosen to be the Jedi Academy's newest instructor. With that, we confer upon him the rank of Jedi Master."

A silence fell over the room. It was Darvix's turn to stare at Luke in a dumbfounded state. Did Darvix hear what he think he had heard? Did Skywalker just say he was a Jedi Master?

"Excuse me," Kasari said, "did you just say Zorvan's a Jedi Master?"

"I believe those were my words, yes," Luke replied.

"Excuse me," Darvix said, "have you gone completely off the deep end?"

"I think I'm still a few years away from complete insanity, but thank you for your concern," Luke said, a smile forming on his face. "That will be all. Congratulations, Master Zorvan."

**End Chapter Eight**

**The End of Year One**


	11. Origins of a Misanthrope

_Author's note: As some of you have noticed, there are some parallels between Dap and a certain popular character on television. Dap was heavily inspired by two fictional characters, the first is Doctor Gregory House and the second is Sherlock Holmes (Who Doctor House is heavily based off of). Both the Sherlock Holmes novellas and House were instrumental in teaching me how to write an original character, specifically the importance of giving that original character vices and bad traits. Throughout the first half of this fic there are several subtle shout-outs to both House and Holmes, sort of my way of showing my gratitude to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writing staff with House, MD. _

**Year Two – Yavin IV****  
****Chapter Nine****  
****Origins of a Misanthrope**

Darvix leaned back in his seat and propped his portable holoscreen on the table in front of him. If his theory was correct, the staff was about to fire the handsome new doctor on Galactic Hospital. After all, he had engaged in an affair with the nurse while committing to marriage with the psychologist from the third floor. Blatant breech of office protocol there. Of course, what the handsome doctor didn't know was the nurse was having an affair behind his back with the female psychologist he was engaged to marry. Still, that didn't yet take into account the fact that the oncologist from floor five was secretly plotting to sabotage the handsome doctor's scheduled operation in two hours-

"Excuse me," a student said, "Master Zorvan? Class started about ten minutes ago."

With a tight frown, Darvix turned off the holoscreen and stood up, "Thank you for informing me, Miss Buzzkill."

The student, a young human female, sheepishly slid down into her seat. Darvix sighed and sat atop the table, looking into the classroom. One of the other instructors (Darvix couldn't even remember who) had been called off for other duties. As a result, Skywalker had told Darvix to fill in for the class, despite his countless protests. It seemed that in recent months, Skywalker had developed a taste for irony. Darvix was filling in for a Jedi Ethics class. Had Darvix done something recently to offend Skywalker?

_Oh, right,_ Darvix said to himself, _the ketchup bomb I rigged in the mess hall_

"Imagine you're stuck mediating a conflict on a Tatooine moisture farm," Darvix started, "Two people are accusing each other of taking more than their fair share of a large moisture deposit. How do you go about solving this little problem?"

A selonian in the back raised his hand, "Uh…are you asking us to tell you what we'd do? Normally we just listen to the Master read off from a list of case-studies of Jedi Knights of the Old Republic."

"What's the fun in that?" Darvix asked. "Am I asking you to do too much? Force forbid I have you blundering fleshbags use that pathetic brain inside of your thick skulls to think."

Another hand shot up into the air, a human male that by the looks of it, was from Coruscant, "The problem is solved by using the usual methodology. First, get names, second, calm the parties involved, third, ascertain the truth by listening to the accounts of both parties without allowing first impressions of those involved to cloud your judgment. Nine times out of ten a solution can be achieved through that discussion. "

"Congratulations," Darvix replied, "you successfully took the easy route out, you lazy waste of air."

"But-"

"You, Padawan, are the typical teacher pleaser. Offer up overly elaborate answers based loosely upon what teachings have been force-fed down your throat for years. Your thinking is formulaic, which is perfect if you want to be an accountant for the New Republic. Unfortunately you choose the route of a Jedi. Sorry, you lose. Anyone else wish to try? I assure you that no one will look quite as stupid as Captain Obvious did."

Darvix cast his eyes about the room again. He had stunned the students into silence. After that little outburst, no one dared speak up for fear that they might be verbally abused by Darvix. He heaved a mental sigh and shook his head in frustration. It was one of the common problems presented in the Academy. Students were taught the lessons of Jedi of the past, but were never taught how to think for themselves.

"Could you tell us what we learned from the initial conversation?" another student asked.

"Someone just asked for information in here, thank you," Darvix replied. "Based on the interview, one moisture farmer, who we'll say is holostar Tetran Cowell, accused the other…for the sake of the story, we'll say the other moisture farmer is Wynssa Starflare-"

"Tetran Cowel?" a student asked. "Wynssa Starflare? Is this really necessary?"

"Yes!" Darvix said. "Honestly, would you really care if these were just two run-of-the-mill moisture farmers? Force, no! You'd be bored out of your mind five minutes into the questioning."

"Master Zorvan, this is an ethics class," the student replied.

"I know that! Do I look as stupid as all of you?" Darvix asked. "Now, as we continue the conversation, Tetran claims he saw Wynssa in the middle of the night bringing a set of moisture vaporators to the deposit. This is a clear breach of the contract both signed a year earlier, stating that farming would only be done in the daylight to ensure neither farmer is harvesting more than their fair share.

"Now, Wynssa looks up into your eyes, bats her eyelashes, and cleaverly gives you a good peak into her low-cut shirt which is designed specifically to draw attention to her breasts and cleavage-"

"The point, Master Zorvan?" a student asked.

"-and says that she was nowhere near the deposit on the night in question. She states that she was, in fact, in Anchorhead visiting family that had come to see her. Question is now, what really happened?"

Silence overtook the room again, causing Darvix to groan aloud. Were these students truly that incapable of thinking on their own?

"Someone has to be lying," another student said. "What we've heard are two completely different stories."

"Good," Darvix said. "How can we figure this out?"

"First we need to reiterate that they must tell the truth-"

"Wrong," Darvix said. "So much for your gold star today. If someone here is lying, they have no reason to start telling the truth any time soon. How do you combat this?"

After a few moments, a young human girl, perhaps no older than sixteen, spoke up, "We could look into their backgrounds, perhaps that could give us a clue as to their behavior. Their actions in the past could indicate who is lying now."

"But we're not supposed to engage in these mediation sessions with the presumption that someone is lying," another student said.

"In an ideal galaxy, you're right," Darvix noted. "In an ideal galaxy we don't have to worry about people lying to our faces, but we don't live in an ideal galaxy. The girl in the front is on the right track. At this point, you call the mediation off for the day and order both to come no where near the moisture deposit. Now you slip into detective mode. What do you do now?"

"We could speak with others who know of the two parties in question," another student said. "Maybe they could shed light onto their reputation, which could translate into motive."

"Good start," Darvix said. "But let's interject one thing, other people lie, too. Try and remove that factor from the equation."

"Let's go to Anchorhead," the same student offered. "See if we can find any truth into her alibi."

"Excellent," Darvix responded. "So you go to Anchorhead's starport and check out the flight manifests. No one seems to match Wynssa Starflare as far as family is concerned. What you have found is that her husband did go off-world about two weeks prior, but hasn't returned yet. Still, being the good little Jedi you all are, you continue searching. Next up you get on the line and call up the Academy, where you are then routed through to a records specialist on Coruscant. That's when you find out Wynssa Starflare, save her husband, has no next of kin. Turns out she was lying about going to Anchorhead to visit family."

"If she's the one that lied," a student said, "than she should be barred from the moisture deposit. She voided her contract by being there to harvest in the middle of the night."

"A reasonable conclusion," Darvix mused, "but completely wrong. Yes, we know that Wynssa Starflare wasn't at Anchorhead, but we still don't know for sure that she was at the deposit. Now what?"

"Master Zorvan," the same student continued, "She lied to us. That implies that she lied about not being at the deposit as well."

"You're just as lazy as Captain Obvious back there," Darvix chided. "Continuing on, you've finished your investigation at Anchorhead and now are going to Wynssa Starflare's to confront her about your findings. She immediately confesses to having been at the deposit at the night in question."

"Like I said, she's guilty," the student stated, folding his arms over his chest.

"Vader's bones, you really are lazy!" Darvix said. "By show of hands, does anyone think it would really be that easy to get Ms. Starflare to fess up so easily?"

Several hands shot up, but a majority of the students in the room didn't budge.

"For the five or six lazy ones in here, let's continue story time," Darvix said. "As you continue speaking with the stunning Wynssa Starflare, you notice that she's wearing some rather low-cut shorts that show off those lovely, slender legs of hers-"

"Master," a student said, "please stick with the story."

"Fine, ruin my daydream," Darvix snapped. "You also notice that there is some men's clothing strewn about the house. Of course, this seems odd because Wynssa seems to be a neat-freak. Class, what's the real problem with this picture?"

Several groans arose from the class. One of the students in the back spoke up, "Her husband is off-world, meaning that there's another man in the house."

"Ding, give the Padawan a prize," Darvix said. "Upon further investigation, you realize that there is another man in the house. This means a few things. First, she wasn't at Anchorhead like we all knew. Second, she wasn't at the moisture deposit, either."

"How do you know that?" the student asked.

"Simple," Darvix said. "She was having an affair, blockhead! Clothes thrown all over the place, a house in absolute shambles. They were getting all the way down. They were getting funky. They were having hot, outrageous, completely immoral, completely out of wed-lock, crazy sex the entire time. If you've got your secret lover at your place, chances are you're not going to leave. You might accidentally blow his cover. Case solved, right?

"Wrong. Let's go back to the initial story, shall we? Tetran claims he saw Wynssa in the middle of the night at the deposit, but in reality, she was no where near there. What's the problem here, class?"

"Why was he at the deposit in the first place?" a Twi'lek student asked.

"Good question," Darvix said. "Sounds a little bit condemning, doesn't it? You've been distracted this entire time following a trail that goes nowhere…Well, except for discovering that Wynssa Starflare is having an affair. That you get to sell to the tabloids and sludgenews reporters. As far as this investigation goes, you've know realized that Tetran is the one lying through his teeth. You arrive at his homestead, and are promptly turned away and told to leave by him. Stalemate, huh?

"Of course, being good Jedi, our first thought is to try and talk our way in. That then lands his right fist on your jaw, and lands you in the infirmary. Let's try that again. Instead of taking the polite route, your force your way in later that night."

"But that's breaking and entering!" a student exclaimed. "There's nothing ethical about that!"

"Bear with me," Darvix continued. "Soon as you're in, you check out the moisture stocks Tetran has accumulated, and quickly find that not everything lines up. He's accounted for some, but not all of it. Turns out he's been raiding the moisture deposit in the middle of the night. You now have no choice but to void the contract and bar Tetran from harvesting from that deposit."

Darvix looked over the class. When he had entered the room, very few of them showed any signs of interest in the class. He really couldn't blame him. Ethics was one of the dullest courses a student at the Academy had to take. He had himself slept through most of his ethics classes. Now, he had the attention of every student in the room.

"We learn a few things from this lesson," Darvix said. "First off, sometimes you have to let your 'ethics' take a backseat for a while. You had no choice but to break and enter in order to discover that it was, in fact, Tetran who had been breaking the contract signed with Wynssa.

"Second, we learn the first great rule of the Galaxy: Nothing is as it seems," Darvix continued, sliding off the table and onto his feet. "At the initial interview, it was impossible to determine who was telling the truth. Upon further investigation, it looked almost certain that Wynssa was the one who had broken the contract. As we dug deeper, it became painfully obvious that she hadn't done anything wrong…well, other than cheated on her husband, but we'll leave that up to the divorce courts.

"Finally, we learn the second great rule of the Galaxy: everybody lies," Darvix said, accentuating his words to make a point. "Tetran lied to cover up his tracks, and Wynssa lied to hide her affair. Keep telling yourself that rule, because it will keep you on the right track. That will always have you searching for the deeper answer that is often hidden under ten meters of garbage… Will someone tell me what time it is? How much longer am I stuck with you pests?"

"Class was over about forty-five minutes ago," Luke Skywalker said from the doorway. Now when had he walked into class?

"Wonderful," Darvix said. He strode down the aisle between the seats and made his way towards the exit, only to have Skywalker's hand land on his shoulder.

"My chambers, now," he ordered.

***

* * *

"Too much, wasn't it?" Darvix asked as he stepped into Skywalker's audience chambers. He skirted around Skywalker's R2 unit, which tweeted at him in annoyance. That droid had a lot of personality and spunk, much like his own Zone. Darvix had never given Zone a memory wipe, and he assumed Skywalker's hadn't given his droid one either.

"Not at all," Luke replied. "I personally thought it was a wonderfully crafted lesson. You could have toned down on the sexual references, though."

"You're no fun anymore," Darvix said as he walked in front of the large window overlooking the Yavin IV jungle. "How long were you listening in?"

"I came in about ten minutes after class started."

"So right when I actually began the lesson," Darvix noted sourly. "You really don't have to spy on me."

"Yes I did, you were teaching an ethics class."

"Are you implying I'm completely devoid of morals?" Darvix asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes," Luke replied.

"Skywalker, am I in trouble or something?" Dap asked. "I thought you already punished me for the ketchup bomb."

"No, you're not in trouble," Luke said as he strode over to a nearby table to unlock a chest sitting atop it. "Wedge did tell me to keep you away from condiments, though. Should have listened to him."

"Why am I here, then?"

Luke walked back to Darvix and grabbed his wrist, pulling it towards him. Before Darvix could object and draw back, Skywalker placed a cold, hard object into his hand. Darvix looked down to see that Luke had placed a small holocron in his hand, a storage device used prominently by Jedi in the past record their day-to-day thoughts.

"This is my father's," Darvix noted somberly.

Luke nodded an affirmative. The holocron had belonged to Darvix's father before his death, a tragic and convoluted story in and of itself. Derik Zorvan was one of the few Jedi who had managed to escape the Great Jedi Purge as ordered by Emperor Palpatine. He fled with his wife to Nar Shaddaa, where they remained concealed in the refugee sector. The two began to argue over the philosophies of the Empire. Darvix's mother felt that Palpatine's new order was the correct path, and that his father should give up the ways of the Jedi and embrace Palpatine's teachings.

He adamantly refused, as any self-respecting Jedi would have. Despite the threat the Empire posed to him personally, Darvix's father refused to accept the Empire as the governing body of the Galaxy. His holocron even talked about his desires to leave Nar Shaddaa and join with an organization known as the "Alliance to Restore the Republic." Sadly, his story ended there.

On a mission with Rogue Squadron, Darvix was sent to his home world of Nar Shaddaa. There, he was forced to lay low in his old home along with Corran Horn when they had been separated from the rest of the Rogues. Horn had discovered the holocron as well as a Jedi Lightsaber by chance, and later revealed to Darvix his Jedi heritage. For years, Darvix had been under the impression that the Jedi had killed his father, not his father being a Jedi. He confronted his mother about this startling revelation.

She admitted the truth to him then and there. Darvix's mother had already fully embraced the Empire, and couldn't stand for the fact that her husband would refuse to give up his Jedi heritage to save himself. She had probably been further incensed by Darvix's father contemplating joining the Rebel cause. At the time, she was pregnant with Darvix, whom she knew would be a Force-Sensitive like her husband. To prevent her child from falling down the same path, she murdered her husband.

Thus began Darvix's fall into the Dark Side. Outraged that his mother had lied to him for so many years about his father and his heritage, Darvix ignited his mother's lightsaber. With one slash, Darvix took away his mother's life in a manner just as cold as when she killed his father.

Upon Darvix's arrival at the Academy, he turned the holocron and the lightsaber over to Skywalker as a penance for his sins. He hadn't seen either item since that day over a year ago.

"Why are you giving me this?" Darvix asked, looking at Luke with an expressionless gaze.

"Before you left with Kasari to Coruscant," Luke started, "Kyle and I stumbled onto a security block that shouldn't have been there. We called in a few favors and managed to unlock the block…We discovered something interesting, to say the least."

"You've got my attention," Darvix replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"This holocron contained an exact duplicate of another holocron," Luke explained. "Your father explained within it that the records belonged to one of your ancestors, a Jedi named Atton Rand."

"I've heard the name," Darvix admitted, all the while trying to figure out exactly what this meant to him.

"That's somewhat surprising," Luke replied, "We don't know much about Atton based on the Jedi archives. Most of the records from that era had been destroyed by Palpatine in the purge. Before getting this holocron, all we knew is that he associated what a fallen Jedi known as the Exile."

"Revan and the Exile," Darvix mused. "That's a set of names I am familiar with. Led a group of Jedi into the Mandalorian War, correct?"

"Correct," Luke responded. "Revan defied the Council's orders not to enter into war alongside the Old Republic. The Exile followed Revan and became one of his Generals. They managed to defeat the Mandalorians, but along the way, Revan became corrupted by the Dark Side."

"Becoming Darth Revan," Darvix interjected. "One of the most feared Sith Lords in the history of the Galaxy. He became one of those stories you tell your kids at night to keep them in line… What of the Exile?"

"Our records are inconclusive," Luke admitted with a shrug. "We know that she returned to the Council to face her punishment, but we just don't know what happened after that. It's speculated she fall to the Dark Side as well. Both the Exile and Darth Revan are referred to in our history as the Exiles of the Mandalorian War.

"The records are sketchy, but it was all but confirmed that both Revan and the Exile lived long after the Mandalorian War, but nothing shows us what they were up to. Little bits of information here and there suggest that Revan stumbled onto a weapon of frightening proportions, but nothing indicates that the weapon was ever found or disposed of."

"So what does this have to do with me?" Darvix asked, genuinely curious for a change.

"You're the one man alive today with a blood connection to that era and that story," Luke said. "Atton Rand was an associate and confident of the Exile, who herself was one of Darth Revan's closest allies. Somewhere on that Holocron may be information that can lead us to whatever secrets they were hiding."

"If this is so important," Darvix said coolly, "why haven't you looked at the holocron yourself?"

"Because this is your task," Luke replied with his usual calm. "Rand is your ancestor, this is your responsibility to uncover the truth and potentially stave off a disaster if that weapon still exists."

"Luke, I know you've got a lot of faith in me, but I'm not the best person for this job. Kyle and Kam have far more field experience than I do. Hell, even Horn is more suited to a task like this than I am."

"You can choose to reject this mission, Darvix," Luke said, "but this is simply meant to be for you. Everything is a puzzle to you, and that's exactly what this is. We've got a few pieces here, but the rest is scattered throughout the Galaxy. I almost hate to say this, but this assignment is best suited towards your personality. It's an enormous riddle. What happened to Revan and the Exile? What does Rand have to do with this?"

"I thought you needed me here to teach," Darvix said quietly. "Why send me away now?"

"We are short on Jedi Masters, yes," Luke admitted, "but what we need even more is the history of the past so we can prevent mistakes like Revan and the Exile from occurring again. You've said it yourself, what we lack here is experience and knowledge…I'm asking you to go find that to share with the rest of us."

"You're asking a lot out of me," Darvix said, his eyes closing. "If I do this, Skywalker…Will I have finally redeemed myself?"

"Darvix," Luke replied as he placed a hand on the younger Jedi's shoulder, "You have already been redeemed in the eyes of the Force, but you have yet to forgive yourself. Perhaps if you accept this mission, you'll finally be able to let go of the demons of your past and redeem yourself in your own eyes… I don't need your response now, so please give this serious thought."

"I'll do it," Darvix responded just as Skywalker finished his sentence. "You told me long ago not to believe in coincidences, so this must be a sign of some sort… I'll begin researching immediately, but I'm going to need full access to the Archives."

"It's already been granted to you…One more thing, Darvix."

Skywalker walked back to the table and the chest, reaching into it before striding back to Darvix. He held out a long, cylindrical object: the lightsaber Darvix had given Skywalker upon his arrival at the Academy.

"This is the weapon of a Jedi," Luke said. "You've gone too long without it."

Darvix frowned as he looked at the weapon. He hadn't touched it since arriving at the Academy. Every time he thought about it, he felt a surge of guilt and pain. It was a reminder of his fall into the Dark Side. Darvix had used that weapon for shameful acts of violence, when it was meant to be a tool of justice. He hadn't carried a blade during his service as a Jedi Knight and Master, choosing instead to use a clumsy hand blaster in combat.

"No," Darvix said. "I mean…no…I'll craft a new blade."

"I had a feeling you might say that," Luke replied. "I've left some supplies in your room, everything you'll need to construct a new lightsaber…well, almost everything."

Luke reached into his pocket, retrieving a small object: a crystal with a soft, green hue. He extended his hand, giving it to Darvix.

"This is a green lightsaber focusing crystal," Luke said as Darvix ran his thumb over the cold object. "Green is the color of the Consular class of Jedi…The Consulars were researchers, scholars, and instructors of the Old Jedi Order. Many became Jedi Masters, like you have already become."

Darvix nodded his understanding as he wrapped his fingers around the crystal. Skywalker had given him a lot to thing about, but that could wait for a little while. His first order of business was to construct his new lightsaber.

"Keep your father's blade with you," Luke said. "You don't have to use it…but it may come in handy one day…Dap, as a Jedi Master, you're entitled to take on a Jedi Knight as your apprentice. In the old Order, the council would have selected a Knight for you. However, this is a decision you should make for yourself. Again, I don't need your response now, but-"

"Lisae," Darvix interrupted. "I want Lisae as my apprentice."

***

* * *

Kasari Lisae pulled her black flightsuit gloves off her hand and lifted up the visor of her flight helmet. She sighed as she attempted to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes. In the six months since she became a Jedi Knight, she had spent a large amount of time away from the Academy. Most of her assignments had involved miscellaneous mediation. Kasari had just returned from Agamar, an agricultural world known for its less-than-intelligent human population. Somehow, she had gotten involved with a paternity battle. Turns out the father was the eighteen-year-old school dropout.

As she climbed down from her cockpit and onto the duracrete floor, Kasari had an epiphany. She was bored. Day in and day out it was the same mundane tasks. One day she would mediate a land dispute on some back-water outer-rim world, the next day it was a spice bust in the skies over Coruscant. Kasari knew that she hadn't become a Jedi for a challenging puzzle. That was why Darvix Zorvan became a Jedi. She told herself repeatedly that even the most monotonous assignments were vital to keeping the peace.

Still, Kasari found that at times she longed for a challenge. Perhaps she had become spoiled. Her first assignment had been at the side of Dap Zorvan, perhaps the most intriguing personality the Jedi had to offer. He had taken Kasari straight into the heart of Imperial space where she helped to alleviate the suffering of unfortunate victims of a political nightmare. Kasari knew that missions like those were dangerous, but something about them was simply exciting. Those missions forced her to think.

Kasari walked out of the hanger and down the hallway towards her new dorm. With the rank of Jedi Knight came a few perks, one of which included her own room. She hadn't had much of a chance to spend time there, but at least it was a place of her own. At that moment, Kasari needed a break from the Galaxy. She would head to her room, lock the door, and enjoy a nice, long bath while listening to some music. Just before she reached her door, she bumped into Kyle Katarn.

"Kasari, glad to see you're back," he said with a smile.

"You have no idea how glad I am to be back," she replied with a heavy sigh. "What a mess. Two families were pinning the blame on a pregnant girl on the other family. Seems that they forgot that a young mother-to-be was the central issue."

"Often the case," Kyle said, handing her a datapad at the same moment. "I hate to do this to you, but need you to ship out tomorrow to handle another backlogged assignment. Territory dispute on Mon Cal."

"Again?" Kasari asked, annoyance edging at her voice. "I was there last month to handle a similar problem."

"Sorry we have to do this to you," Kyle responded, "but we don't want to see this situation escalate out of control."

"I know, Kyle," Kasari said as she allowed her shoulders to slump. "I'm not upset at you or Skywalker, just these Mon Cals and Quarren who can't seem to get along."

"You've been pretty busy lately," Kyle noted. "Tell you what…I'll get your departure date pushed back a few days. You've earned a little time to yourself."

"Thanks, Kyle," Kasari replied with a warm smile. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

Kyle patted her on the shoulder and slid past her. Kasari blew a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes as she stared at the ceiling in frustration. Heaving another disgruntled sigh, she stepped into her room. As she threw her travel bag to the floor, she strode over to her holotransciever. She depressed the message playback button and walked into her refresher room to fill the tub.

"Lisae, I know you're in there," the voice said. "I can hear you caring… Okay, I guess you're not there. In any case, it's the master of the known galaxy speaking…but you can call me "Uncle Dap."

Kasari smiled to herself as she tossed her orange flightsuit and support equipment out of the refresher room and into her living area. Whatever could Zorvan need?

"I know you get back in today. I need to talk to you later… Meet me at the Archives at 2100 hours…Now, if I had to guess, you're filling the tub right now."

Kasari stood upright and glanced out into her room. That was a rather creepy thought. How did Darvix know that?

"Chances are you ran into Kyle and got another assignment," Darvix continued. "Sorry about that, I tried to keep him occupied. Here's a tip, don't try to drink Kyle under the table. He'll out-duel the best…Anyways, you're probably stressed out, so I'll leave you alone for the time being. Be sure to meet me at the archives later. If you'd be so kind as to bring me something to eat, I'd greatly appreciate it. Been pretty busy."

Kasari rolled her eyes as she stuck a finger into the water filling the tub to gauge its temperature.

"Oh, one last thing," Darvix's voice said. "Open up your medicine cabinet…Come on, don't stand there so confused, just do it Lisae."

Shaking her head, Kasari padded over to the medicine cabinet above her sink and pulled it open. On one of the shelves was a small disc that could be inserted into her audio player.

"Some old keybed recordings I had laying around," Darvix said. "Tends to keep me relaxed after a tough day…Of course, if that doesn't work, I'll just dip into my spice supply. If you want some of that, I could ship you over a trial vial. After that, you're on your own. I'll get out of your hair now, though that is a shame. It's one of your better qualities… By the way, they're serving bantha steak and gravy at the mess hall. I think you know what to do."

The recording ended and Kasari could only smile. Through his own rather broken way, Darvix had shown that he was capable of being kind. That could only mean one thing: he was about to call in a favor.

***

* * *

Kasari slipped out of the mess hall with a boxed meal in her hands. As she glanced at her wrist chrono, she saw that it was nearly the time to meet Darvix in the Jedi Archive. She wondered idly Darvix needed. He sounded as if the meeting was urgent, as if he had something very important to share with her. As she walked deeper into the Academy, she realized that it had been some time since she had spoken with Darvix. Since she had become a Jedi Knight, Kasari had seen him in passing. Unfortunately, each time she would greet Darvix, he would either ignore her completely, or respond with some snide comment about her bust size.

"Kasari, I see you've returned from Agamar," a familiar voice said from behind her.

Kasari looked over her shoulder and smiled warmly at Luke Skywalker, "It was like one of those bad afternoon holo-talk shows. All that was missing was for one of the boyfriends to admit he really was a transvestite by night."

"Those are always…amusing… assignments, but I think I can cook you up something a little more entertaining next time," Luke replied. "You seem to be in a hurry."

"Zorvan needs to talk to me for some reason," Kasari explained. "He claims he's down in the Jedi Archive, but what would that lazy bum be doing there?"

"I don't know if I'd call him lazy," Luke chided. "He stepped in there two days ago and hasn't left since."

Kasari raised an eyebrow, "That's odd. Last I checked we didn't store hardcore holo-porn in the archives."

Luke shot Kasari an admonishing look, "He's been researching. I've tried to get him to leave to get some rest, but he seems to be firmly planted in there. Could you do me a favor and try to convince him to get some sleep?"

"If I can't talk him into it, I'll just tell him to shoot up some spice," Kasari replied. "After that he'll probably do anything I ask him to."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't encourage his dependency on spice," Skywalker said in turn, a frown forming on his lips.

"Both of us know we don't have to encourage him. He's addicted to the stuff."

The two continued to wander down the halls, idly chatting until another Jedi Knight pulled Skywalker away to attend to Academy business. Kasari continued to walk deeper into the Academy. The Archives were stored in an underground level, mostly for the protection of the valuable data stored there. It contained the records and teachings of Jedi of the Old Republic, but was vastly incomplete. The great Jedi Purge ordered by Emperor Palpatine had destroyed most of the records that had been kept at the old Jedi Council on Coruscant. The records held at Yavin IV were mostly copies and duplicates of originals. Skywalker and other Jedi had painstakingly gathered the datapads and holocrons that filled the Archives and continued to add to it.

"Took you long enough," Darvix Zorvan said from behind a lone table at the far end of the Archives.

Kasari rolled her eyes and took a seat in front of him, setting down the boxed meal atop the table, "I'm right on time."

"By 2100 hours, I meant I wanted to see you at 1930," Darvix replied. "Come on, you've got the Force. Certainly you knew that."

"You're an ass," Kasari said with a frown. "What did you need to see me for?"

"Huh?" Darvix asked. "Oh! I just needed something to eat."

"Not funny, Zorvan."

"You're right," Darvix admitted with a shrug. "Not one of my better one-liners."

Kasari rolled her eyes as Darvix turned his attention back to the datapad in front of him. The entire table was littered with stacks of holocrons and datapads. Crumpled up sheets of flimsy were scattered about the floor. As she looked back at Darvix, Kasari caught sight of the bags that had formed under his eyes. She wondered idly how many mugs of caf it had taken to keep him awake for the last two days.

"You're getting bored, aren't you?" Darvix asked as he scrolled through the information on the datapad. "Mediating the same garbage starting to get to you?"

"I'm content with what I'm doing," she replied, raising her gaze up to Darvix once more.

"No you're not," Darvix said. "If you were content, you would have completely blown me off. You think I've got something interesting for you."

That was something she truly hated about Darvix. He knew just what buttons to push to get them to crack. In a word, he was manipulative.

"Alright," Kasari replied. "I'll indulge you. Yes, I'm bored. What can you do about it?"

"I've got an investigation of sorts on my hands," Darvix said, finally looking up from the datapad. "I'm going to need some help in making heads or tails of all of this information."

"Something you can't figure out?" Kasari asked. "My, I already feel excited… What's the catch?"

"You know me all to well," Darvix replied as he leaned back in his seat. "How do you feel about leaving the Academy? You've called this place home for a long time. If you agree to help me, we could be gone for some time. It could be weeks, it could be months…It very likely could be years."

Kasari was confused to say the least. Why was he asking these things? Darvix sounded almost philosophical, something that didn't suit his personality well.

"If what I'm reading is correct," Darvix continued, "then I will soon be traveling into some dangerous territory. How do you feel about willingly throwing yourself into harm's way? Ask yourself this: why did I become a Jedi? Did I do it to tinker away on trivial mediation assignments, or did I do it for adventure? There's nothing wrong with having done it for the latter."

Kasari dropped her gaze to the tabletop again. What exactly did he want? Darvix wasn't joking in his usual manner, he was asking Kasari these questions in the most serious manner she had ever seen coming from him.

"I'm not Skywalker!" Darvix barked. "I'm not going to wait around for you to think about these questions, because if you do that you'll only let your brain cloud your judgment. I want to know what you're gut tells you."

"Yes!" Kasari shouted at him, jumping to her feet. "Yes, I'm bored out of my mind. Yes, I'm ready to step away from the Academy and explore the Galaxy. Yes…I'm ready to face danger."

Darvix studied Kasari for a moment before replying, "I believe you, Lisae. Very well, I suppose I can let you into my secret little club."

With that, he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a datapad. Darvix slid it across the table towards Kasari.

"That contains the assignment parameters given to me by Skywalker," Darvix said. "It also contains a few miscellaneous notes about our destination. I want you to have this read over by morning."

Kasari powered on the datapad and quickly skimmed over the contents, "Taris? This is Imperial controlled space."

"Rather deep into Imperial Remnant territory as well," Darvix confirmed.

"When do we leave?" Kasari asked.

"Three days," Darvix replied. "Go get your affairs in order."


	12. New Faces, New Places

**Chapter Ten  
New Faces, New Places  
Post One**

Darvix Zorvan shook his head as he looked out the viewport. In front of the shuttle he was aboard was an aging GR-75 medium-class transport that looked like it had been through hell and back. If he recalled correctly, the GR-75 was constructed by the Gallofree Shipyards before they went defunct prior to the Battle of Yavin. This particular transport model had been used heavily by the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil War. Their large storage capacity and easy modification made it the Alliance's premier multi-role transport.

"I know she's not much to look at," Luke said. "She's a reliable ship, though. Made it through Yavin, Hoth, and Endor in one piece."

"No wonder she looks like she's about to split in half," Darvix remarked.

"Originally she was commissioned as the 'Dutyfree,'" Luke continued. "I flew a few escort missions along her side when I was with Rogue Squadron…In any case, she was decommissioned by the Republic a few years back and put into cold storage. I managed to talk them into selling her to the Academy. Pulled in a few favors and had her repaired, refurbished, and re-commissioned as the Tatooine Gallows."

"You call this a repair job?" Darvix asked. "I've seen wrecked starships that look better than this."

Darvix frowned as he got a better look of the Tatooine Gallows' hull. It was coated with rust stains that had turned the once pristine white hull into a rather hideous brown. Everywhere he looked he spotted deep pits and carbon scoring, no doubt from he many combat missions the transport had been forced to endure.

"We've made some rather significant modifications to the ship," Luke said, gesturing to the transport. "First and foremost we've converted the entire upper storage levels into a makeshift hanger bay. The hull has been redesigned to open from the top, meaning you'll have to use your snubfighter's repulsorlifts to exit the ship completely. You should be able to fit both your X-Wing and Kasari's in there without difficulty. There probably will be enough space left over for a landing shuttle of some sort."

"Second thing that's been done is that a portion of the lower cargo holds have been converted into living quarters. You'll thank me after you see the original living spaces. You'll still have enough storage for about six months worth of supplies as you travel."

"This thing must be a fuel guzzler," Darvix noted as the shuttle flew behind the transport's enormous engines. "I sure hope that's coming out of your pocket and not mine."

Luke rolled his eyes, "You're going to need to hire a navigator to handle astrogation. I imagine you'll be busy enough with other tasks."

"Whatever," Darvix replied, "can I have the keys now, pops?"

"I'm not that old!" Luke protested.

"Anything you say, old man."

***

* * *

The day before, Darvix Zorvan had told Kasari to pack up all of her personal affects. He had admitted to her that the assignment he had undertaken would take a long time to "solve," as he often liked to say. Darvix told her that he didn't have many leads to follow, just anecdotal evidence found within the archives. Idly, she wondered why she had accepted Darvix's request to become his apprentice. All signs pointed to Darvix being on a wild chase for ghosts. He had no proof that Revan and Exile were anywhere in the Galaxy after the Mandalorian War.

Sighing, she leaned against the wall of her bedroom, looking around at all the packed boxes that would soon be moved into the transport in the space over Yavin IV. The Academy had been her home for several years now, and it would be difficult to leave it behind. It was as much of a home to her as the house she had lived in on her homeworld of Bosch. Part of her was pained by the fact that she was leaving for what would most likely be a very extended period of time, yet another part of her was enthralled by the change of pace.

Picking up a travel bag filled with items she'd need short-term, she left her quarters. The movers would be along shortly to relocate her belongings, and she didn't want to be present to watch her room cleared of her presence. After that, it would be as if she had never been there. Kasari absently made her way down the hallway and towards the Academy hangers. As she strode towards her X-Wing, she spotted Kyle Katarn in front of a nearby shuttle, checklist in hand. Smiling faintly, she walked over to him.

"Hello, Master Katarn," Kasari said warmly.

"For the last time," Kyle playfully chided, "just Kyle. Looks like you're on your way out, guess I won't get to send you to settle that land dispute."

"Thank the Force," Kasari replied. "We're scheduled to depart in a few hours."

"Doesn't look like you're too happy," Kyle noted.

"No, no, I'm alright. It's just going to be hard to leave this place behind for a while."

"We all have to move forward at some point," Kyle responded, looking directly at Kasari. "It's the way of life, and it's especially the way of the Jedi. You're a great asset here at the Academy, but you'll do even more good out in the Galaxy."

Kasari smiled again, feeling herself relax slightly, "Thanks, Kyle…Could I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you think about Zorvan?" she asked.

Kyle considered a moment before answering, "On the record, he's lucky to be where he is. If these were the days of the Old Republic, he'd be a Knight like everyone else. Unfortunately, you know as well as I do how short-handed we are."

"And off the record?"

"Off the record," Kyle continued, "he's a hell of a teacher. His methods are unorthodox and even unethical at times, but he knows how to get those around him to think. He believes that he shouldn't rest on the laurels of others."

"That would be a good trait to possess," Kasari said.

"It can be," Kyle said with a shrug. "Sometimes it gets him into trouble. He gets the desire to forge his own path, and it gets him hurt. Despite that, he's in a good mindset. He's always searching for the deeper answer."

"Nothing in the Galaxy is as it seems," Kasari said, repeating the first part of Darvix's rules of the Galaxy.

"And everybody lies," Kyle said, continuing Kasari's thought. "Call his 'rules of life' misanthropic if you want, but he somehow manages to get the job done by adhering to them."

"I wish he wasn't such an ass," Kasari said with a sigh.

"With Darvix, you get what you get. You get the good, such as his ability to provoke those around him to think harder. Unfortunately, you also get the bad, such as his innate ability to frustrate the living kriff out of everyone around him. At this point, the good outweighs the bad."

"Wouldn't he be a better Jedi if he could…change his attitude?" Kasari asked.

"I'm sure he would be a far better Jedi," Kyle replied with a shrug. "He has a low tolerance for idiocy around him. Dap tends to quickly brush off people like that to find something more entertaining to do."

"What you're saying is that Zorvan has a boredom problem," Kasari noted.

"I suppose that's a better way to phrase it," Kyle admitted. "That's really why he is the way he is. He avoids boredom like the Krytos plague, and to do that, he's always calculating. What option resolves this situation the quickest, but isn't necessarily the most effective? Everything is a puzzle to him. If one is too easy, he skips it and moves to a puzzle that provides more of a challenge."

"He seems to rush through everything, though," Kasari said.

"You've never seen him really bare down, then," Kyle replied. "When he's motivated, his entire mind and body becomes devoted to a single task. Early in his time here, Skywalker once put him into a difficult obstacle course outside of the Academy. Most other students would encounter one particular obstacle and turn away after a few hours of failed efforts to advance themselves within the course."

"Zorvan was different?"

"He spent nearly twenty-four standard hours figuring out how to move onto the next portion of the course. Both Skywalker and I tried to talk him into giving up for the time being, but he continued to plug away at it. Dap finally figured it out and moved on."

"That's good," Kasari said. "It's nice to know he can apply himself to something for a change."

"It can be good, but it can also be bad," Kyle continued. "At times he's obsessive-compulsive. He goes on stretches where he forsakes food and drink just so he can research something. He starts loosing track of everything around him except for the task right in front of him. Dap can get focused when he wants to, but sometimes he gets too focused."

"Sounds like you enjoy lazy Zorvan more than focused Zorvan."

"Once again, it depends on the situation," Kyle said. "Sometimes focused Dap is the right call because he can spot something the rest of us miss, but sometimes lazy Dap is the Dap we need. That mindset gives him the virtue of looking at the bigger picture. Unfortunately, it's hard for him to get into the right mindset for the right task. Someone needs to prod him in the right direction."

"So, what? I'm just some glorified babysitter for him?" Kasari asked, a frown forming on her lips.

"It'll sure seem like that at times," Kyle said with an amused smile. "Try not to think of it that way. Dap selected you for a reason. He's critical of everyone around him, and frankly, I'm shocked that he chose to leave on this assignment with an apprentice at all. He seems to think that you can help him solve his puzzles…coming from him, that's high praise."

"He's got a lot of potential, doesn't he?"

"Everyone here has potential," Kyle said. "Whatever you do, don't talk to Dap about potential. That's the fastest way to get him on a rant…He'll be the first to tell you that you've got a great deal of it. He's told me that you've got more raw talent within you than he could ever hope to have. Dap hopes you can live up to that potential."

"Why does he care so much?" Kasari asked. "He's acted as if he doesn't give a damn about anyone else in the Galaxy."

"Typically, he doesn't give a damn," Kyle responded. "He must have seen something really special within you to show as much compassion as he has thus far… Here's my advice to you, Kasari: learn what you can from Darvix, but be careful. Some of the things he'll try to teach you are just echoes of his jaded past coming back to haunt him. Other things will be of more value than you will ever realize."

***

* * *

Kasari Lisae leaned forward in the seat in front of her terminal, switching her gaze between the forward viewport and the hyperspace chrono. They were due to drop out any minute now. Darvix had made it a point to not tell her where they were heading, and it served to both confuse and annoy Kasari. As near as she could tell, they weren't heading towards Taris based on the hyperspace numbers. What was Darvix up to this time? Was this some sort of entertaining side-trip for him? It probably was. That meant he was probably after prostitutes again. Kasari allowed an annoyed half-smile to form upon her lips as the _Tatooine Gallows_ dropped out of hyperspace.

And right in front of an Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer.

"Sithspit!" Kasari cursed as she bolted to her feet, only to turn around and see Darvix calmly sitting with his feet propped up on his command console.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

"Watching as we approach an ImpStar-Duece," Darvix replied.

"Are you going to do anything about it?" Kasari asked, glancing over her shoulder as the Star Destroyer grew in size through the viewport.

"Let me think about that one," Darvix said, pausing for a moment. "Yep. I'm going to approach, and then dock with the ship."

"Are you high!?"

"Yes," Darvix replied nonchalantly.

Kasari stared at Darvix for a moment, idly wondering why she asked such a stupid question. Of course he was high. Darvix was perpetually high. Swearing aloud, she sat back down at the helm controls, punching in commands to alter the ship's course away from the Star Destroyer.

"Will you calm down?" Darvix said.

"Give me one reason I should calm down!"

"Because I told you to," Darvix replied.

"Not good enough, Zorvan."

"Fine," Darvix said, heaving a mock sigh. "That's not an Imperial ship."

"It's a Star Destroyer!" Kasari said, exasperated.

"Very good, would you like a gold star?"

Groaning, Kasari let her forehead rest on the console in front of her. "Once…Just once, please give me a straight answer."

"You're no fun anymore," Darvix pouted. "You win. That's the _Errant Venture_."

"…As in the fabled smuggler ship?" Kasari asked.

"The one and only," Darvix said. "You're looking at her. Treacherous hive of scum and villainy and all that fun stuff."

"This begs the question," Kasari mused. "Why the hell are we here?"

"Oops, can't talk now, Lisae," Darvix said. "Uncle Dap has to talk to the big boys now."

"You're such an ass."

"You call me that a lot," Darvix noted. "Does that mean I get to give you a pet-name? How about sweet-cake? Or maybe-"

Before Darvix could continue his thought, his chair fell out from under him, throwing him onto his back. He blinked several times as he stared up at the ceiling, an amusing grin on his face, "Hey, no using the Force to get me to shut up."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Zorvan," Kasari said calmly.

"You're a lousy liar."

"I don't have as much practice as you," she replied.

"…Nice."

***

* * *

"If it were anyone other than Skywalker asking, I wouldn't have agreed to let you set foot on board the Venture," Booster said sourly.

Booster Terrik could be described by some as being a frightening man. At the very least, he was imposing. He was a heavyset smuggler who had been in the business longer than most people could boast. Perhaps that was why he was one of the best. Darvix looked across the table at Booster, wondering if the larger man was thinking about ripping his head off. He had known that Booster generally didn't like having Jedi on board his ships; they tended to scare the smugglers stationed there. Next to Booster was a male Twi'lek who Darvix recognized.

"Dap Zorvan, right?" Nawara Ven asked.

"The one and only," Darvix replied.

"You know him? Booster asked, looking over at the Twi'lek.

"He served with Rogue Squadron for a time," Nawara informed Booster.

"So you're one of Wedge's boys," Booster said. "Well why didn't you say so?"

Darvix grinned, "General Antilles would have my head if he found out I was using his good name to pull in favors… Now, you're the great Booster Terrik. Father of Mirax, right?"

"What about her?"

"I worked with her on a few assignments with the Rogues," Darvix said. "Brilliant smuggler, you taught her well."

"I'll pass along your praise to her," Booster replied with a grin. "Now if only she could get rid of that dead-weight."

"CorSec?" Darvix asked.

"CorSec," Booster confirmed. "Don't see what she sees in Horn."

Darvix nodded, "I offer you my condolences."

"Condolences?" Booster asked, a glint of amusement tingeing his tone. "Is he dead?"

"Nope, still alive," Darvix responded. "Hence the condolences."

The two men shared a good laugh at the expense of Corran Horn. It was no secret that Booster Terrik didn't think too fondly of his son-in-law. Darvix couldn't count the number of times he had heard Corran complain about "old Booster" while he was with Rogue Squadron. They apparently shared a love/hate relationship. More hate than anything.

"I like you, kid," Booster said. "What can I do for you? I owe Wedge's boys a few favors, anyways."

"I was wondering if you could put out a bulletin while I'm here," Darvix said. "I'm looking for an astrogation specialist. I'd appreciate you letting your guests know I'm in the hiring mood."

"I'll see what I can do," Booster said, standing and offering Darvix his hand.

Darvix stood in turn and shook the smuggler's hand, "I appreciate it, Terrik."

"Before you go," Booster said, "I saw a young lady with you on your ship, bit of a looker. Nice catch."

"Looks can be deceiving," Darvix said. "She's the female equivalent to Horn."

"My condolences," Booster replied.

***

* * *

Vikan "Vik" Kelrune frowned inwardly as he stepped into the smoky cantina. It was perhaps the seediest part of all the _Errant Venture_, and to say the area made Vik uncomfortable was an understatement. As he walked towards a dark corner in the back of the cantina, Vik stepped over a body slumped over on the floor. He stopped his forward motion momentarily as two scruffy-looking smugglers pushed past him, only to see one smuggler's fist land on the other smuggler's jaw moments late. Shaking his head, he continued towards the table, taking a seat.

He could see that someone was sitting across from him, but the lighting was terrible. All he could make out was the outline of the stranger and the faint glow of a datapad on the table. Suddenly, he felt a bit of anxiety begin to tug at his stomach. _I have a bad feeling about this_

"Vik Kelrune," he said, introducing himself. "I'm told you're searching for an astrogator."

"You're correct," the stranger said. "Mr. Kelrune… Hm, based on your rather broken swagger, you were on board the Rodian's Delight, weren't you? If I remember right, that freighter got ambushed by a pirate raid."

Vik remained silent. How did this stranger know that? He had worked to cover up his tracks. It was hard enough to find work as it was, but his record would only serve to make life harder for him.

"You also stand with a military presence," the stranger continued. "New Republic Starfighter Corps if I had to wager a guess. Though, I'm guessing you never made it out of Starfighter Academy."

Vik felt the hairs on his neck stand. The stranger was beginning to scare him. Just by looking at him, the man had determined that Kelrune had been aboard a freighter doomed by a pirate raid. Someone, just in watching him walk, the stranger had also figured out that he had been with the New Republic for a length of time. Vik Kelrune had enrolled in the Starfighter Academy, where he had learned his mastery of astrogation. Towards the end of his courses, he had a change of heart. Packing his bags, Vik dropped out of Starfighter Academy to pursue more lucrative career options in the private sector. He wound up learning that working privately had downfalls. Many downfalls.

"Who the hell are you?" Vik asked.

The stranger learned forward and into a bit of the light, exposing his face to Kelrune.

"Dap Zorvan?" Kelrune asked. "What the hell are you doing out here? Last I heard you were serving under General Antilles."

"I was," Darvix admitted, "but I got bored. Went and became a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" Kelrune asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I leave you alone for a few years and you get these delusions of grandeur."

Vik had gone to the Academy with Darvix. He had actually been the one that coined Darvix's nickname, "the Human Datapad," which was later truncated to "Dap." Darvix had been an ace with trivial calculations and details. It seemed that the young man was always calculating something, which earned him the name.

"How've you been, old buddy?" Vik asked, grinning at Darvix.

"Oh the normal," Darvix replied. "Saving the Republic from the Empire and bedding countless women at the same time."

"I see your sense of humility hasn't abandoned you," Kelrune replied, rolling his eyes.

As far as Vik knew, he had been Darvix's only friend at the Academy. Granted, the Nar Shaddaa native had other friends at points in time, but he managed to alienate every one of them. Part of it had been his cocky attitude. If anyone was convinced they could take on the entire Imperial Remnant by themselves, it was Darvix. Still, most of the reason Darvix lacked that level of friendship was his personality. He was a misanthrope by nature, and despite how hard he tried to control himself, Darvix's nature seemed to win out at the worst possible time. Despite all of that, Vik had remained friends with Darvix until he had dropped out of the Academy.

"So tell me," Vik said. "Were those deductions you made about me thanks to your Jedi abilities?"

"I wish," Darvix replied with a laugh.

"So you managed to figure out all of that just by watching me?"

"If I could do that, NRI would be waiting to draft me into their service," Darvix replied.

"…how'd you do it?"

With a shrug, Darvix pushed a datapad across the table, "I sliced into Booster's system to see his file on you."

"…You haven't changed a bit," Vik replied. "You're still a complete ass."

"I get that a lot," Darvix said with a lopsided grin.

***

* * *

"You're going to Taris?" Vik asked. "Zorvan, I knew you were crazy but this is pushing it even for you."

"Correction," Darvix responded. "_We're_ going to Taris."

"What makes you think I'd even consider going on a suicide mission with you?"

"First," Darvix said, "no one else would dare hire you. If someone didn't believe in curses, they sure would after flying with you. You've got enough bad luck for a snubfighter squadron of twelve."

"So I've gotten into a few scuffles," Vik replied with a frown. "I'm still not crazy."

"Second," Darvix continued, "You've already brought your bags onto my ship. Soon as you found out I was involved, you were sold. You've been bored just cruising around as an astrogator for hire… Well, bored when you haven't been flying straight into an Imperial ambush, anyways. You left the Academy to get rich and quick, and it sounded like a good idea to you at the time. Unfortunately, you found out that simple course calculations just aren't your thing. You ran into me and decided I was the way to find some excitement, to try and relive your days at the Academy."

"What do you know?" Vik responded. "If I recall right, you got me into a fair amount of trouble at the Academy. Why is that worth reliving?"

"Because you were at least applying yourself then. Now all you do is figure out how to get cargo from point A to point B in the shortest time possible and without getting ambushed in the process…Well, you've been doing well with the former task, not so much with the latter."

Vik frowned again at Darvix. Since becoming an astrogator-for-hire, Vik had developed a reputation of being cursed. Several high profile cargo ships he had been hired to serve on had fallen into the wrong hands. He had been ambushed by pirates and the Imperial Remnant more times than he cared to think about. Part of it had been sheer dumb-luck. He simply crossed into the wrong space at the wrong time. Part of it was the people who had hired him. They insisted that he take the quickest route, but sometimes the quickest path was the most dangerous. Regardless, it had all taken a toll on his reputation. Haulers refused to hire him, buying into the belief that he was bad luck.

"You know you don't need to know everything about everybody," Vik said, pushing past Darvix and into one of the _Tatooine Gallows'_ repulsorlifts.

"I also don't need to watch holo-soaps," Darvix said, stepping into the lift next to Vik, "but they make me happy."

"You're sick," Vik said.

"And high," Darvix added. "What's your point?"

"You're right, you know," Vik said, glancing over at his friend. "At the very least, traveling with you will be somewhat entertaining."

"Wait till Happy Hour rolls around."

***

* * *

An hour after Vik Kelrune begrudgingly agreed to join Darvix's assignment, the _Tatooine Gallows_ was well into hyperspace. Darvix had disappeared from the bridge, leaving Vik and the ship's first officer alone to crunch astrogation numbers. Getting to Taris required them to fly into Imperial Remnant controlled space. The trick was to find a flight path that took them through areas that weren't heavily patrolled, and that required a lot of guess-work. Vik had to take into consideration things such as popular shipping and civilian routes. With the state of the Imperial Remnant, much of their resources were devoted to keeping heavily used transport routes open.

Vik had set a preliminary flight course to Taris, but it took a much more indirect route than he would have preferred. Still, he had been ambushed one-time-too-many, and wasn't willing to chance being pulled out of hyperspace by an Imperial cruiser again. With a satisfied nod, he submitted his numbers into the astrogation computer.

"How long have you known Zorvan?" the first officer asked.

Vik spun his chair around to look at Kasari Lisae, whom Darvix had briefly introduced him to earlier, "I met him at the Starfighter Academy almost five years ago. We both enrolled at the same time, but three years later, I had dropped out and he had gone off to play hero with Rogue Squadron. I lost contact with him shortly after he was officially given his commission in Starfighter Command."

"He doesn't talk about his career as a snubfighter pilot much," Kasari mused. "All I really know is that he took part in the Phantom Fighter crisis and resigned his commission shortly after its conclusion."

"He doesn't talk of things he's not proud of," Vik replied. "No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't tell me anything about his life before his asylum with the New Republic. All he said is that he did things he still regrets."

Kasari shook her head, "I have a hard time believing that he regrets anything."

"He certainly comes off that way," Vik affirmed. "In all seriousness, Dap is a mystery. He keeps to himself, only opening up to people who he thinks are worthy of playing on his 'intellectual playground.'"

"Did he find you to be a worthy playmate?"

Vik thought for a moment before responding, "I suppose you could say that. At various points in time at the Academy, he had other friends. One by one, though, he managed to alienate every one of them."

"You were different?" Kasari asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I've been blessed, or cursed, with the ability to put up with him," Vik replied. "He's misanthropic to the core. I don't know if it was nurture or nature that did it to him, but Dap knows exactly what to do and say to push people away from him. I assure you, he tried many times to shove me out of his self-imposed fortress of pain and suffering, but I stuck with him…I suppose you could say I'm a glutton for abuse."

"So he's always been," Kasari paused, searching her mind for an appropriate word to describe Darvix. "He's always been an egomaniacal, self-righteous bastard?"

"It would seem that deep down, that's what he really is," Vik said. "There was a point in time where he genuinely cared about what others thought of him. He tried to keep friends at the Academy, but all of his efforts were futile. Dap, inevitably, would destroy friendships and set explosive charges on the proverbial bridge to ensure that they would leave him alone… Now, he just doesn't seem to care about the way others perceive him. If you can deal with his eccentric behavior, he'll let you in on his personal anguish. If you can't, than he'll make fun of your mother and tell you to insult someone else's intelligence."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Kasari spoke up, "Are you the one who gave Zorvan his nickname?"

"Dap," Vik mused. "Short for 'The Human Datapad.' At the time, the nickname was endearing. He had, and probably still possesses, a brilliant mind. He could crunch numbers and analyze skirmish data on-the-fly… Unfortunately, based on what I've seen from him in the last few hours, that name has probably earned a negative connotation."

"What do you mean?" Kasari asked.

"The Human Datapad…Cold and distant, always calculating, incapable of taking emotions into consideration."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan lifted the dark goggles from his eyes in order to examine the weld he had just finished. The cylindrical housing for the hilt of his lightsaber was finished. A wise Jedi Master had once said that the lightsaber was a weapon of a more elegant era, and that elegance was often present in the craftsmanship of each blade. They were deadly weapons, but they were pieces of art at the same time. Darvix's blade was no exception.

It had been said that a lightsaber was an expression of a Jedi's background and soul. There was no question that Darvix's new blade represented his background as a musician. As a young teen, he had owned several musical instruments. One in particular had been constructed with extraordinarily fine craftsmanship. That instrument, like many other high-quality musical devices, had hand-engraved artwork sketched into the metal. It was a sign of the 'love' that had gone into making it. Darvix had taken that idea and applied it to his new lightsaber.

With care, he had engraved the image of a Succulosum Azure into the pristine silver of his hilt. It was intentionally symbolic. The Succulosum was an incredibly beautiful flower that possessed a visual aura that was simply intoxicating. Despite the beauty, the flower possessed a deadly toxin that was incredibly dangerous. The flower was just like his lightsaber: beautiful, but decidedly deadly. Smiling to himself, he slid the internal components of the lightsaber into the silver housing, locking it into place.

Darvix was about to thumb on his lightsaber when the door to his quarters slid open. As he looked up, he saw Vik Kelrune slip in.

"You really need to get out more often," Vik said as he glanced around the room. "You're only reinforcing your reputation as being a terminal geek."

"Are you going to start calling me a mouth-breather if I don't get some fresh air?" Darvix asked, a slight grin forming on his lips.

Vik laughed aloud as he pulled a chair away from the table set up in the middle of Darvix's room, "I couldn't help but noticing something earlier."

"I always said that if you really tried your best you'd be able to get that pathetic brain of yours to function correctly," Darvix said, setting his lightsaber on his workbench.

"Your arm," Vik said, his tone serious. "There must be a few hundred injection marks scattered all over it…How long have you been taking spice?"

Darvix looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at his old friend, "Almost three years."

"What are you taking?" Vik asked.

"Andris," Darvix replied with a shrug. "One part spice per twenty parts saline solution… It gives me a high but isn't potent enough to do any immediate harm."

"Directly infusing it into your blood stream," Vik noticed. "That's just like you, always about getting results as fast as you can… People turn to spice for a variety of reasons. Some simply enjoy the euphoria, some to alleviate pain, some to take their minds of the Galaxy around them. What's your story?"

"Why can't they all be true?" Darvix replied somberly. "I'm a man who has demons to battle, and I've chosen to fight them my own way."

"You haven't chosen to fight them at all," Vik said in turn. "You've only chosen to distract yourself with drugs."

"Perhaps you're right," Darvix said.

The two sat in silence for a while before Darvix finally broke the awkward quiet, "Remember the time I rigged a condiment bomb in Major Janson's quarters?"

"How could I forget?" Vik said, shaking his head. "When administration found out, I told them Janson had gotten drunk the night before and the mess was probably his own fault."

"You value our friendship more than your ethical responsibility," Darvix noted.

"Our friendship has and always will be an ethical responsibility," Vik replied.


	13. Footsteps

**Chapter Eleven - Footsteps**

**_(Author's note: Part of this chapter was written by a good friend of mine, Astronut. Her FFN profile is linked under the Favorite Authors tab in my own profile) _  
**  
Taris had once been known as the "Coruscant of the Outer Rim." Situated on a hyperspace hub, it had been a point of commerce for countless beings across the Galaxy. It was a world of urban sprawl, where enormous cities covered the planet's surface. This history logs had indicated that it was an extremely polarized world. For the human population, many had the chance to live in luxury on the upper portions of the planet's cities. For the unfortunate beings who had been born as a non-human, they were doomed to live life in the undercities: a desolate wasteland filled with plague.

Nearly four-thousand years ago, everything would change for its inhabitants. The feared Sith Lord Darth Malak laid waste to the planet, ordering his flagship to rain down turbolaser fire upon the helpless beings below. It was unclear why Malak had ordered the attack, for the records had been lost in the great Jedi Purge initiated by the Galactic Empire. As a result, it would take thousands of years for the planet to rebuild itself. It wasn't until approximately three years before the Battle of Yavin that Taris returned to an urban state.

"Question," Kasari Lisae said as she looked through the forward viewport. "Why did you choose this planet? If you're going to drag us into Imperial Space, I thought you'd at least choose an interesting destination."

"What, you've never wanted to take a vacation in this sector?" Darvix replied. "What's not to like? I mean, you have your ruins of a civilization destroyed thousands of years earlier, a wonderful view of urban chaos, not to mention a native population comprised of complete bigots."

It always amused Darvix to notice that history had a disgusting tendency to repeat itself. From the intelligence reports he had read over before arriving, he had noted that the cities on the planet's surface had become divided by social status. It was much like Coruscant before it had fallen away from the Empire. Upper class citizens lived towards the city surfaces, while middle and lower class citizens toiled away in the significantly dirtier lower sectors. As for the non-humans and their sympathizers, they were cast off into the bowels of the planet, forced to fend for themselves. In short, Taris had completely reverted to the way it once was.

"You'll have to forgive my ignorance," Vik started.

"Which I've had to do for years," Darvix said in turn.

Vik shot a glare at Darvix before continuing, "What's so important about this 'Revan' character?"

"Darth Revan," Darvix said, gazing through the viewport. "He was an extremely promising Jedi at the time of the great Mandalorian War nearly four-thousand years ago. Some say he was well on his way to becoming a Jedi Master, for his ability to call upon the Force was unparalleled."

"What went wrong?"

"When the Old Republic begged the Jedi Council for assistance, the Council refused. The old Masters felt that negotiations and patience should be practiced, despite the fact that the Old Republic was loosing worlds and systems to the Mandalorian Empire faster than a Hutt devouring a bantha…well, maybe I need a better analogy, but you get the picture."

"So Revan decided to take matters into his own hands, I assume?" Kasari asked.

"Precisely," Darvix confirmed with a nod, crossing his arms over his chest. "Revan appealed to all the Jedi who would listen to him, pleading with them to turn away from the Council and assist the Old Republic. A large number of padawans, Jedi, and even Masters turned their back on the council and followed Revan to war. It was a turning point, soon the Mandalorians were on the run, and the Old Republic managed to put an end to the war. However, shortly after the Mandalorians conceded defeat, Revan vanished.

"Several years later, Revan returned to the Galaxy," Darvix continued. "It's speculated that Revan traveled to the unknown regions and into Sith territory, where he learned the ways of the Sith and the Dark Side of the Force. He had become Darth Revan, one of the most feared Sith Lords in the history of the Galaxy. Revan could have made Vader and Palpatine wet their pants in fear. He was ruthless, and he was thirsty for power. Some say he had come in contact with a superweapon that struck fear into the Old Republic, but whatever it was, he began conquering sector after sector, making the Mandalorian War look like a walk in the park.

"So what happened to Revan?" Vik asked.

"Unfortunately, it's not clear," Darvix said with a shrug. "What I just told you were bits and pieces of old history logs kept within the Republic and the Jedi Archives. I haven't been able to find anything solid of what happened to Revan after his return, or if he was even stopped. All I can tell you is that the planet before you is the last known place where Revan had been seen according to our information."

"You mean he destroyed the planet's surface?" Kasari asked.

"Not Revan, no," Darvix said. "His apprentice, Darth Malak, appears to have given the order to destroy the planet. From what the records indicate, Revan had given power of the Sith Fleet to Malak. His whereabouts after that are inconclusive…If I had to wager a guess, I would assume he had returned to Sith territory. It frightens me to think of why, exactly, he did that."

"That is unnerving," Kasari mused, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes. "Why would a Sith Lord suddenly abandon the conquest of the Galaxy, especially considering how well it was going?"

"Well, that's what we're here to find out, isn't it, kiddies?" Darvix responded. "Vik, settle us into orbit. We'll take the transport to the surface."

"Bringing us in," Vik said, entering a string of commands into his flight console.

"That's 'Bringing us in, captain," Darvix corrected.

"The day I refer to you as 'captain' is the day that Lisae changes her career paths from 'Jedi' to 'nightclub stripper,'" Vik said.

With a grin, Darvix looked over at Kasari with a mock-hopeful expression.

"Not a chance in hell," Kasari said, her face neutral.

"It doesn't hurt to dream, right?" Darvix asked.

"You'd best keep me out of your perverted dreams," Kasari replied. "I can't stand it when men objectify women like that."

"Well, that low-cut shirt you're wearing just screams 'I'm an object!'" Darvix said thoughtfully.

Kasari blushed furiously and covered her chest with her datapad, "You're only giving me more ammunition for a sexual harassment lawsuit. Eyes up here, nerf-herder."

***

* * *

Three hours later, the crew of the _Tatooine Gallows_ had settled into a small apartment on the upper-levels of one of the Taris' larger cities. Kasari Lisae leaned against the large transparisteel window overlooking the city. As they had flown in, Kasari had noticed that between cities were what appeared to be ruins. In the years since the Sith destruction of Taris' surface, plant growth had overtaken the ruins. This posed a serious problem: if there were any clues to be found about what happened to Revan, it would most likely be buried somewhere within the ruins.

Kasari turned her head as she heard the door to the adjacent bedroom open. Vik Kelrune stepped into the living area and glanced around.

"Any idea where Dap ran off to?" Vik asked.

"Probably looking for a spice dealer," Kasari scoffed.

Vik shook his head and chuckled softly. He often wondered how Dap managed to keep his spice supplies topped off. It always seemed as if he was shooting up, be it on the bridge of the gallows, in the hanger working on his X-Wing, or playing at his keybed. What was even more perplexing was where he was finding the money to purchase all of that spice.

"So, how did you get pulled into Dap's web?" Vik asked.

"He asked me, I accepted," Kasari replied.

"I take it you had never worked with him before, then," Vik said as he made his way to the small kitchen to pour himself a cup of caf.

"No, I had worked with him before," Kasari responded. "My last trial assignment before I became a Jedi. Zorvan served as my mentor and…coached me in his methodology."

"And you didn't shoot yourself?" Vik asked. "I'm impressed. He must have given you a false impression of himself to convince you to work with him again."

"No," Kasari retorted. "Zorvan was rude, sexist, and completely unethical…In other words, his normal self.

"You know all about him, yet you still agreed to work with him," Vik said, shaking his head again. "Either you're a sucker for verbal abuse, or you've got the hots for Dap."

Vik looked up just in time to see Kasari and her flushed face turn away from him to look out the window, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Vik walked out from behind the counter and towards her, a grin on his lips as he pointed at her, "You _do_ like him!"

"You agreed to work with him!" Kasari said, glaring at Vik. "Does that mean you want to get in bed with Zorvan?"

"Who could resist a rear end like that?" Vik asked. "Do you want to know why I agreed to join Zorvan and his crazy mission? No one else would hire me. Dap is the only one foolish enough to put me on his ship. As for the big reason? Working with him is a challenge. He makes you think, he forces you to look for the deeper answer…Long story short, life is never boring with him around."

"So why can't that be true for me?" Kasari asked. "Just because you think-"

"It's true because you already told me so," Vik replied. "You're a lousy liar…Your body language completely gives you away."

"…Alright, let's say you're right," Kasari said. "Let's say I do find him…interesting."

"You mean you want to get down and dirty with him?" Vik responded with a lopsided grin before straightening his features again. "In all seriousness…Be careful."

"I'll be fine, I won't get-"

"It's not you I'm worried about," Vik said, cutting Kasari off.

Kasari raised a brow, "You think _I'm_ going to hurt Zorvan?"

"I had a chance to catch up with Dap on the way here," Vik said somberly. "He's had it rough the last few years, and if he gets hurt again…well, it could be bad."

Kasari didn't stop Vik to ask what he meant as he returned to his room. She leaned against the window, staring out at the city skyline. Dap Zorvan was an interesting person to say the least. He was as antisocial as anyone she had ever met; a man who didn't care what others thought of him. Somehow, despite all of his flaws, Kasari knew she was attracted to him.

Just like everything about Darvix, that feeling made absolutely no sense to her.

***

* * *

Dap looked down. It was amazing how impossibly dirty one could become just by walking the so-called streets of the Lower City. While his pleasant new aroma of eau-de-garbage would be sure to endear him to crewmates, the state of his clothing offered a particularly challenging conundrum: where does one find a blast furnace hot enough to vaporize this mess?

He waved an arm, fascinated by the murky cloud of dirt and filth-stained sand that emitted from the cloth. Places like the Lower City were never clean; sparkling white walls would have destroyed their reputations as black hives of scum and villainy. Dap had grown up on Nar Shaddaa, one of the filthiest pits of the galaxy, and tended not to mind a bit of dirt, but the thick blanket of dirt dropping from his self onto the floor and furniture disgusted him. After all, if everything was black already, how could you see the black filth of people's idiotic tendencies in order to point them out with vicious rejoinders and sarcastic witticisms?

Scratching at a patch of particularly annoying dirt that had somehow migrated underneath his tunic, he looked up to see another annoyance.

"It's about time you got back." Lisae stood in the small doorway, sharp eyes studying the rather dirty scene.

"Oh, I wasn't aware I had a curfew," he shot as he patted his clothing, raising a dark cloud. "Unlike most people, my brain is big enough that I don't have to worry about it getting lost whenever it plays outside." The dirt settled on the floor, coating it like ash.

She took a few steps into the room to better glare at him. He could feel in the Force the effort she was making not to hold her nose against the smell in an undignified manner. "You should have told us you were going to the ruins by yourself," she continued.

"Ruins, what ruins?" Dap gestured to encompass the room, "I am simply slowly recreating a desert hermitage once ounce of dirt at a time in which to live out the rest of my life devoted to meditation, of the Sith variety of course. Sadly, the rent's a bit steep on Tatooine so I thought this hovel of an apartment would do. So, you think the charred bones should go by the closet or by the bed." He paused, as if thinking hard. "Closet. They might scare the ladies out of the bed. Besides, I just went on a casual little jaunt through the city."

"Still, you could have been hurt," she barked. "Some street thugs or something! We should have gone together, as a team." Her hands clenched into fists, but Dap could sense less anger than he could worry.

While he knew he should have felt touched at her concern, the only emotion he could find was irritation. "Team implies there is no 'I'. Having known what it is to live with out eyes, I tend to hoard them. This is my mission, I'll operate as I see fit."

"So what am I? The window dressing? Your babysitter?"

"My throw pillow. On the bed you go."

Her eyes cooled, but she persisted despite his attempt at a cutting remark. "Why are you acting like this? I thought you trusted me? What's the matter, didn't find your daily fix?"

His hand went automatically to his pocket, which was depressingly empty. He with drew his hand and noted that it had somehow managed to get dirtier. Clearly, it would be unhygienic to engage in any recreational pursuits until he had his shower. And to have a shower, he would have to chase off Lisae.

"Hourly, get it straight Lisae," he said sourly, glancing towards the enticing open door to the refresher. "And as a matter of policy, I don't trust anyone. Either get on the bed or we'll have to see how throw pillows got their name."

Dap turned his back to her, expecting her to leave while he located any clothing that had managed to avoid contamination. Instead, he felt a strong tug at the back of his tunic that caused him to pivot. Before he could respond further, soft, warm lips collided with his, assaulting them roughly.

He froze. His mind, his body, and his lips all ceased to respond.

Lisae pulled back, her expression filled with fire. But it wasn't the fire of lust or passion, simply the crackling embers of anger and annoyance. "There," she spat, "Is that what you want?"

"No." There was no emotion, although there wasn't peace either.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied without any trace of characteristic apology. "More seductive with a bit of tongue? Would that please the Jedi Master Zorvan?"

"You have 1.678 seconds to walk out that door," he said coldly, pointing at the door.

"What?" Confusion washed briefly over her face.

"The average human stride over three meters. Get out."

She strode to the door, pausing for only an instant to face him with a disgusted look. "Dap, you really are an ass."

"Out."

Lisae left. Behind her, her boots left clean, white footprints in the dark filth that covered the floor.

"I can't believe I did that!" Kasari growled as she strode into the area that the small crew of the Gallows had designated as the commons. She plopped down into a chair hard and drew up her legs into an almost fetal position.

Vik, deeply engaged with a brightly colored datapad, did not acknowledge her presence. Instead, he kept muttering to himself as his fingers repeatedly pounded at a few keys, "Come on, come on, one more… Yes! Mission Complete! Hoth level unlocked!" He stood and gave an excited whoop of joy, doing an odd sort of shuffle. Finally, he looked up and saw Kasari's unimpressed scowl. Giving his datapad one last longing glance, he turned to Kasari and sighed. He reached out and patted her arm comfortingly. "Okay, tell Dr. Vik what's wrong now."

"I just did something horrible stupid," she moaned, burying her head in her hands. "I know I'm not supposed to get angry, but I just felt so frustrated, like I had to do something to break the cycle. And now everything's broken."

Vik winced. Dap had the unique ability to drive everyone and anyone to the breaking point. Either you hated him and wanted to kill him or you loved him and wanted to kill him. "Was he high?"

Kasari looked up, faint traces of tears on her cheeks. "When is he not? But no, he seemed too edgy."

"Well, there you go. He won't remember a thing. Dap gets high to forget. Give it a few days and everything will be back to normal, or at least as normal as it gets around here. Besides," he added with a slight grin, "everyone knows women go nutty once a…" His voice trailed off as he registered inactive lightsaber currently residing under his chin. The look on Kasari's face indicated that she would feel no remorse for accidentally hitting the activation stud.

"Finish that statement and I'll see that you never again have to face a woman's wrath."

He held up his hands in truce. "My apologies." Vik kept a careful eye on the saber as she withdrew it. "I didn't think you used that thing except for defense. The good little Jedi thing and all."

"It would have been defense," Kasari smiled with sickening sweetness. "In the defense of women everywhere."

"Quit harassing the hired help," a voice came from the hall. Dap entered wearing a clean but worn jumpsuit. "Vik, grab your blaster, we're going out." He strode by, not sparing a glance for Kasari who had curled up once more in her chair. She remained silent as Vik followed Dap out the door.

"So, where are we going," Vik huffed as he broke out into a light jog to keep up.

"There is no branch of detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracing footsteps."

"Any idea where these mystical footsteps might lead us to?"

"Don't know and don't care. Footprints are pretty useless at leading to somewhere, but leading from somewhere, that's another story. Especially when the footprints include a catastrophic cataclysm. The game's a foot, dear Vik, and I only hope I have money after spice and taxes to make a large enough bet."

***

* * *

"He's gay," Kasari said bluntly as she glowered at Darvix's back. "There's no other explanation."

"Do you say that about every man who's turned you down?" Vik asked.

"Look at his shoes," Kasari said, glancing over at Vik.

"He's always worn those," Vik said as he looked at the bright colored athletic shoes on Darvix's feet.

"Who wears those with a tunic?" Kasari asked. "It all adds up. No girlfriend, always hanging out with Skywalker, and his obsession with those shoes."

"Well I'm impressed you can determine his sexual orientation based only on his choice of footwear," Vik said with a slight grin.

"The shoes never lie."

Darvix was far enough ahead of Vik and Kasari as to not hear their conversation concerning him. The last thing Kasari needed was more of Darvix's "wit." She still couldn't believe what she had done only hours earlier. Kasari had seen Darvix truly angry only once before, when she had disobeyed his direct order and followed him off into a snubfighter skirmish. Only then, that anger had been a fiery tirade that made his intentions clear. This time, Kasari couldn't see what was bothering him. She knew he was upset at her, but under that were layers she couldn't hope to penetrate.

That hadn't been normal Darvix behavior. The kiss hadn't touched a nerve; it had applied an electric shock to a nerve.

"He's not gay," Vik said. "Perhaps he switch hits, I don't know, but he's not gay."

"And you know this how?" Kasari asked, casting an amused look at Vik.

"We've…had a chance to catch up," Vik responded carefully.

Kasari shook her head and stepped over a large rock. At one point in time, there had been a large city where she now walked. Now all that stood was broken duracrete that had long since been taken over by plant life. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to be found, but Darvix seemed to be convinced that something could be found in these ruins. She doubted any substantial clues could have survived five thousand years soil erosion and plant growth. She seriously doubted any clues could have possibly survived the precursor Sith bombardment that laid waste to the planet's surface. Just as Kasari was about to sigh in frustration, she looked up just as she bumped into Darvix.

"Didn't your mothers ever tell you that it isn't nice to talk about someone's sexual preferences behind their backs?" Darvix asked.

"Obviously yours didn't," Kasari replied. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's considered rude in most cultures to eavesdrop on someone else's conversation with the Force?"

"I've been naughty," Darvix replied. "I think you need to spank me."

"You had your chance," Kasari said, pushing past the two men.

"She sure told you," Vik noted. "I always had the feeling you were into-"

"My sexual fantasies are not up for discussion right now," Darvix replied.

***

* * *

  
Darvix had slipped out of sight shortly after the group stopped to rest. They had left behind the landspeeder hours earlier, and the sun was at its highest point in the sky. Kasari took a long drink from her canteen and rubbed the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. She couldn't help but feel that they were following a cold trail. From the data Darvix had given her, there was a good chance that Darth Revan had never set foot on Taris. If that was the case, there wouldn't be any clues to be found, and they would wind up at square one again.

"Just how much has Zorvan told you about his life before joining the Jedi Academy?" Vik asked from atop a boulder in front of her.

"Not much, as you can expect," Kasari replied. "I know he's from Nar Shaddaa and was in Rogue Squadron for a little under a year, but other than that, I don't know a great deal."

Vik nodded and jumped to the ground below him, dusting off his jacket, "I suppose that's why you have no qualms with trying to get into Zorvan's pants."

"Oh, Vader's Bones," Kasari groaned. "He is gay, isn't he?"

"No!" Vik said. "Like I've already said, no."

"Fine," Kasari said. "Enlighten me. Why is it an extraordinarily bad idea to try and get into bed with Zorvan?"

"Well, there's the whole spice thing for starters," Vik noted. "In all seriousness… Before he arrived at the Jedi Academy and during his stay with Rogue Squadron, he was engaged to be married."

"Someone agreed to marry him?" Kasari asked incredulously.

"That's what I said," Vik replied.

"So what happened?" Kasari asked. "Did his fiancé call the engagement off? Get a restraining order? Hired a gunman to kill him?"

Vik shook his head, "She died."

"…She died?"

"He wouldn't tell me much," Vik continued with a shrug. "Just that she was with the New Republic Starfighter Corps and that she was killed in action."

"Did he give you her name?"

"No," Vik replied. "It happened two or three years ago, but it's still a tender subject with him. I couldn't drag much more out of him than that."

***

* * *

Darvix glanced around at his surroundings, trying to visually pinpoint anything out of the ordinary. According to the old layouts of the city, somewhere nearby had once been an elevator that could take him into the lower city and the under city. It wasn't so much the lower section he was interested in. Chances are the Sith bombardment had destroyed that portion of the city as well. No, it was the so called "under city" he was trying to find.

While the lower city had been comprised of aliens and middle class citizens, the under city had been the home of social pariahs and the diseased. It was much like the old InviSec areas of Coruscant during Imperial rule. If the old journals he had found in the archives could be trusted, Revan had spent time there with Taris' outcasts. Why Revan had done that was unknown to Darvix, but it was as good as any place to start.

Finally, something caught Darvix's attention. He tilted his head to the side as he noticed a slight depression in the ground just in front of him. Darvix strode towards it, pulling out his datapad. According to the schematics, the elevator shaft should be right where that depression was. Smiling to himself, he powered off the datapad and returned it to his pocket. He took one deep, calming breath as his brought his hand up before him.

Darvix winced as a sharp pain ran through his temples. He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. It had been about five hours since his last injection of spice, and he was starting to go through withdrawals. The amount of spice he took was miniscule in comparison to true addicts, but he had gotten himself onto a regular schedule. Ever two hours, he would inject more of the drug into his system. He had found that had been the magic number to keep him off edge yet at the same time keeping him from becoming deliriously high.

As much as he tried, he couldn't find the focus he needed to call upon the Force to help him clear a path to the elevator shaft. Unfortunately, he had left his case of spice in his backpack, which was with Kasari and Vik. If he couldn't get the spice into his system, he wouldn't be able to focus. With a shrug, he reached under his tunic and pulled a small device off of his utility belt, setting it atop the depression.

***

* * *

Kasari was awoken from her reverie by the sound of an explosion not too far off in the distance. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her backpack and withdrew the lightsaber from her belt, quickly igniting it. She ran towards the location of the sound, calling upon the Force to accelerate her movement. As she crested a grassy hill, she stopped dead in her tracks. Ahead of her was a smoking crater, and sitting at its rim was Darvix.

"What the hell happened?" Kasari demanded as she stumbled down the hill.

"Strangest thing," Darvix said. "All of the sudden, every atom in this general vicinity up and exploded, leaving this gaping hole."

"You're kidding."

"Of course I am," Darvix replied. "I found this old elevator shaft and used a pack of explosives to clear it."

"Just where does this shaft go?"

"One of either two places," Darvix mused. "It's either the old Taris Undercity, or it goes straight to the seventh circle of hell. I'm hoping for the latter, it's getting a bit nippy out."

As Kasari shook her head in disgust, Vik Kelrune limped down the hill, gasping for breath, "No fair…I can't cheat like you two can."

"You're just upset that a girl outran you," Darvix said as he peered down the shaft.

They stood in silence for a moment, gazing at the smoke eminating from the freshly opened elevator shaft. Finally, Vik broke the silence, "So, what do we do now?"

"We go back to our rooms and rest up for the night," Darvix said. "We'll be back in the morning after we stock up on some supplies in the city."

***

By the time Darvix had returned to his room and had showered the dirt from his body, it was nightfall. Kasari and Vik had gone off to purchase supplies for their expedition into the Taris lower cities the next day, and wouldn't be due back for a few more hours. As he sat on the edge of his bed, he looked towards the black case on the table next to the bed. He thought for a moment, then reached for the case, pulling it onto his lap and releasing the latches. Darvix sighed to himself as he pulled out a vial of spice and an injector. After filling the injector with a measured dose of spice, he rolled back his sleeve, jabbing the device into his forearm and hitting the inject button.

Almost immediately, his headache began to vanish. Darvix took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. The first time he had taken spice had been out of necessity. Held captive on board an Imperial Star Destroyer during the Phantom Fighter crisis, Darvix had been beaten to the point where he couldn't move. A mole in the Imperial Navy by the name of Baron Soontir Fel had found him in the brig, telling him that his chance to escape was coming. Fel knew that Darvix was in pain, and had given him a dosage of spice to alleviate his pain for a short while.

One dose. That was all it took to start his addiction.

For three years now he had been taking spice on a regular basis. One part Andris per twenty part saline. It was enough to keep him loose. That allowed him to call upon the Force easier. If it weren't for the spice, Darvix would be a far worse Jedi than he already was, and he knew he was a lousy Jedi even while on spice. The spice wasn't just to call on the Force. It was to help him forget about his past, or at least, to numb his memory.

His doorchime awoke him from his thoughts. Shaking his head, he stood and walked to the door, keying the command to open it. On the other side was a rather striking young woman. Fair skin, blonde hair, and an air of intelligence about her. He assumed she was a student in the area. It was a shame she had to resort to this to keep herself afloat.

"Hi there," she said. "You must be a visitor here…Sightseeing, taking a look at the college-"

"I'm paying you," Darvix said. "You don't need to talk to get your money."

With a short nod, she slipped into Darvix's room, the door closing behind her. There was more things than spice to help a man forget about life for a while.

***

* * *

Vik Kelrune stared at the plate of food in front of him, a grimace on his face. It had been Kasari's idea to eat at this sullustan restaurant. He wasn't quite sure what it was. He wasn't quite sure why it was an extremely unnatural color, or more importantly, why it was still moving. All he knew was that he suddenly found his appetite was missing in action. As he glanced over at Kasari, he saw that, to no surprise, she seemed to have lost the desire to eat as well.

"I said we should go to the café two blocks behind us, but no, you insisted we try this," Vik chided. " 'Where's your sense of adventure?' you said. I tried to talk you out of it, but no, you just –had- to eat here. I knew this would be bad. If Sullustan food was as offensive as Sullustan music, we were going to be in for a world of hurt. No, we could have just-"

"Okay," Kasari said, exasperated, "I get it. You were right."

With that, Kasari stood and picked up the bag beside her, walking out of the Resteraunt, leaving a few credits on the table behind her. Vik followed in tow, thankful that he didn't have to stare at his meal any longer. The two stepped back onto the main drag of the shopping district. Night had long since fallen over the capitol of Taris, but the streets were still full of people either shopping for goods or trying to find some form of entertainment.

"I think we're good on supplies," Kasari said, glancing into her bag. "Pair these with the rations we brought, we should be good for a few days away from civilization."

"Not quite yet," Vik replied. "I still need to pick up something."

Kasari raised a brow as she fell into step with Vik. At first glance, there wasn't anything truly remarkable about the man. He was slightly shorter than average height, typical for a man who used to have to fit himself into the tight confines of a military snubfighter. His wiry, brown hair was cropped short, indicative of his military background.

"What, did I forget something?" Kasari asked, genuinely concerned.

"No, no," Vik replied. "Zorvan didn't tell us to pick these up."

She followed Kelrune into a small, somewhat smoky shop. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized where she was: a weapons outfitter., vibroblades, hand blasters, blaster rifles, and other weapons of combat. She frowned slightly. Each one of the weapons before her were so crude, so unrefined. They were just mass-produced killing tools that could be wielded by the untrained to do indescribable damage.

Vik approached the back counter and the Rodian standing behind it, "I need a Solo special," he said bluntly.

"I'm sorry," the Rodian replied in crude basic. "That weapon has been outlawed in Imperial territory."

"I know you have one," Vik said, glaring at the alien. "Either show me what you have, or I tell the authorities that your weapons license hanging on your wall is forged."

Vik gestured to a display on the wall behind the Rodian. Kasari wasn't sure whether Vik had just bluffed, or if he really knew the license was faked. As she stretched out with the Force, she could feel the Rodian tense with both fear and uncertainty. Without saying a word, the alien disappeared into a back room, returning with two cases, setting them on the counter top.

Vik smiled tightly and opened the cases, beckoning Kasari to come forward, "Two BlasTech DL44 heavy hand-blasters, also known as the Han Solo special. These things have been outlawed since the beginning of the Galactic Civil war, turns out they're pretty effective at piercing Stormtrooper armor... Had mine confiscated a while back, bout time I replace it."

"Lovely," Kasari said. "Buy it for yourself so we can get out of here, alright?"

"I'm getting one for you, too," Vik said.

"Don't need one."

"Don't give me the 'my lightsaber is a far more elegant weapon than your blaster,' line," Vik replied. "You'll be in a situation that will call for it, and you'll thank me for insisting you start wearing a blaster."

"The Jedi don't-"

"Don't give me that either," Vik said, cutting her off. "I've seen plenty of holos of Skywalker hauling around a blaster. It can't hurt to be safe…Even Darvix has one…Though, I'm convinced he carries one because he doesn't know how to use a lightsaber."

"Nonsense," Kasari said, "Darvix knows how to-"

"Have you actually ever seen him use his lightsaber?" Vik asked. "Probably just another indication of his mediocrity."

"Do you have a point to make?" Kasari asked, raising a brow.

"Just take the damn blaster," Vik responded.

Kasari shook her head and considered for a moment. Vik wouldn't leave her alone unless she took the blaster. Well, he seemed to be in a giving mood. Might as well take advantage of that. As she glanced around the shop, something caught her eye. It vaguely resembled a vibrosword, a weapon she had used in training at the Academy. There was, however, one difference. The tip of the sword contained an emitter of some sort. As she stepped closer, she realized it was a crude blaster. She started at it for a moment, marveling at the strange fusion of weapons.

"Okay, I'll take the blaster," Kasari said. "But you have to get me that, too."

She pointed towards the weapon she had been admiring.

"Does it look like I'm made of credits, Lisae?" Vik asked with a frown.

"Oh, I'm sure the gentlebeing will cut you a deal," Kasari said, "seeing as you've figured out he's operating this business with a forged license."

With that, Vik smiled and turned towards the Rodian, "I think we'll be taking these blasters as well as the blade the lovely young lady was admiring. I'm sure we'll find your prices to be acceptable."

The Rodian gave a rough approximation of a glare before speaking, "Very well…Two DL-44 blasters and an Adumari Blastsword."

***

* * *

Darvix's paid "guest" had left about an hour earlier, and the buzz from his last hit of spice had just entered into what he liked to call the "diet euphoria" phase. Most waking hours, Darvix was in this state, slightly high, but still coherent. As he was waiting for Vik and Kasari to return, Darvix had gone down to the hotel lobby, where an elegant keybed adorned the floor. He had seen other people use it earlier, so it shouldn't be a problem if he sat behind the green, white, and black keys. Not that he particularly cared if it was against the hotel rules to use the keybed.

What seemed like an eternity ago, this was all Darvix wanted to do with his life. He loved music and everything that it brought to the table. He loved practicing, performing, but he especially loved teaching. At his school, Darvix would teach music lessons on the side for a little bit of pocket credits. He would work with younger children for hours on end, teaching them everything from how to read holo-music to actually playing one of the instruments the school had. As a teenager, Darvix had decided this was what he wanted to do for a living. He would join the Imperial Navy for a few years, and after his service was up, they would pay for his education. Unfortunately, life threw him a few breaking shockballs, and before he knew it, he was a refugee in Republic space.

Normally, thinking about this particular bit of misfortune did a number of things to Darvix, none pleasant. Some days he was saddened by what had happened, others he was furious. This evening, however, his mind was occupied with something else. His fingers effortlessly glided across the keybed, playing an almost dreamlike song. His left hand played a series of long, connected chords while his right played a lilting melody in the upper tones of the instrument. As the bridge of the song came, his left hand launched into playing faster notes, all the while still connecting together into one cohesive, flowing accompaniment. All the while, his right hand continued to play the melody in short but smooth bursts.

Under most normal circumstances, Darvix would never do this in a public place. Now he preferred to enjoy music in private, but today was one of those rare days when he didn't really care. To an older and more worn Darvix, music was now a way to reminisce about better times. It was intensely personal to him, something he didn't share with many people. There was only one person Darvix would have shared this passion with, but fate (or perhaps even the Force) had taken that companion away from him long ago. Still, this evening was somehow different for him. He felt that there wasn't a reason he shouldn't play. The lobby was empty, it was getting late, and he had time on his hands. If not this, he would be in his room, forced to dwell on his thoughts.

The song he had committed to memory ages ago gradually began to slow as the ending neared. The dynamic began to lessened the volume decrescendoed into a faint whisper. Finally, his fingers settled on one last, quiet chord. Darvix smiled as he looked down at the keys. He had taught himself to play this instrument as a child with old holos and datapads kept at his school. Being mostly blind in his youth, he had been forced to play by feel rather than by sight. Even now, he rarely looked down at the keys, choosing instead look straight ahead, as if staring off into oblivion.

His mother had loved that song, but he had hated it as a child. It wasn't the upbeat, popular music he enjoyed playing. Still, he played the song for her when she asked. As Darvix grew older, his knowledge and taste in music matured. He grew to appreciate the song for what it was, something that appealed to the subconscious. It was eerie, yet at the same time, beautiful. The complex nature of the song appealed to Darvix's personality.

Of course, that wasn't to say Darvix was one of those stuck-up music aficionados he saw all the time on Coruscant. He still loved playing the popular tunes he enjoyed as a teenager. Darvix's hands returned to the keybed, playing a series of chords that served as the accompaniment to the song he was humming. As he continued, Darvix seemed to let go of his inhibitions, softly singing the tune aloud as his hands continued to hammer away on the keybed. The song was incredibly trite and cliché, telling the story about a farmboy and a city girl who fall in love despite their differences. It didn't matter to Darvix, it was fun, and he didn't have fun very often.

"You've got a nice voice," Kasari said from behind him. "I had no idea you could sing and play."

Darvix tensed and suddenly pulled his hands away from the keybed, "I also know how to dance, care for a demonstration?"

"Sure you do, flyboy," Kasari said. "we've got the supplies you asked for. When are we heading back to the opening?"

"0900, I think," Darvix said as he glanced at his wrist chronometer. "I suppose we should be heading for bed-"

Kasari shrugged, "I'm not tired yet. You up for a drink? Hotel's got an open bar."

Darvix looked at Kasari, considering her offer. Earlier that day, she had made a fool of herself by trying to pull his feelings for her to the surface. Futile effort, Darvix mused. After all, there was nothing there to find. He figured this was her attempt at an apology.

"Alright, I'll take you up on that," Darvix replied as he stood up from the keybed bench.

The bar was a small little room tucked away behind the lobby. As Darvix made a motion to step behind it, Kasari cut him off.

"I've got it," she said, resting her arms on the bar and leaning forward. "So what'll it be, Master Zorvan?"

Darvix couldn't help but grin slightly, "Surprise me."

"You'll want this stirred, I presume?" she asked.

"You know me all to well," Darvix replied.

Kasari smiled and reached behind the bar, procuring the materials she needed. Darvix watched with mild fascination, "Where'd you learn how to mix drinks?"

"Before I came to the Academy," Kasari said as she poured the contents of a few containers into a shaker, closing the top and mixing the contents, "I wanted to be a bartender."

"You?" Darvix asked, not quite believing what she had just said. "Little miss 'By-the-Book' a bartender?"

"My parents ran a restaurant," Kasari explained. "They never let me into the sports bar they had, so like any child, I always wanted to see what mommy and daddy didn't want me to see. The day I turned twenty-one I enrolled in a bartending school. Six weeks later Master Katarn found me and convinced me to go to the Academy."

"Leave it to Kyle to find a recruit in a bartending school," Darvix replied with a chuckle. "I still can't believe you wanted to be a bartender, though."

"You're one to talk," she replied. "Mister Terminal Geek and Asshole of the Year four years running. Who'd have thought you would be a musician? You always seemed to be a bit too anti-social for that."

A faint smile tugged at Darvix's lips, "You're the second person to say that to me…"

"Hm?" Kasari asked, looking at Darvix.

"Nothing, nothing," Darvix replied, shaking his head. "How's the drink coming?"

Kasari opened the cap on the shaker and poured the contents into two glasses. Darvix tilted his head to the side as he examined the drink, marveling at the odd phosphorescent glow it possessed.

"A dry Durindfire," Kasari said. "Don't worry about the glow, it won't hurt you."

"What's in here?" Darvix asked, raising a brow.

"Synthehol," Kasari replied. "After that it really doesn't matter, does it?"

"I suppose not," Darvix replied, raising his glass. "What shall we toast to?"

"How about…" Kasari said, pausing for a moment as she raised her own glass. "How about we toast to settling for alternate careers."

"I'll drink to that," Darvix said as he gently tapped his drink against hers.

He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip, immediately looking back to Kasari with surprise, "Lisae, this is actually pretty good."

Kasari smiled as she took a sip from her glass, "Do you believe I wanted to be a bartender now, Zorvan?"

"Only if you believe that I know how to dance," Darvix replied.

"Not a snowball's chance on Tatooine," Kasari said as she took another sip from her drink.


	14. The Prophecies of Revan

**Chapter Twelve - The Prophecies of Revan **

Darvix squinted into the darkness as he adjusted the pulley attached to the harness he was wearing. As he alleviated the tension on the pulley, the duracord he had dropped into the elevator shaft began moving through it faster, quickening his rate of descent into the depths of the Old Taris ruins. As he looked above him, he noticed that the sunlight was becoming dimmer and dimmer as he descended lower. He assumed that he had passed the Middle City a few hundred meters ago, meaning he was still a few hundred meters away from the Undercity.

"Explain to me," Vik said from below Darvix, "what's the importance of this location?"

Darvix reached up to his head, turning on the headlamp he had pulled out of a survival kit. As he turned it on, he looked down at Vik, who was forced to shield his eyes from the bright intrusion.

"I think this may have been one of Revan's stopping points during his excursion on Taris," Darvix replied as he continued to feed duracord through the harness.

"What gives you that indication?" Kasari asked from above him.

"Two things," Darvix replied. "First were a set of Old Republic travel logs that survived the Purge. There was a Jedi by the name of Bastila Shan who apparently was a central figure of the Jedi Civil War approximately four thousand years ago. Based on bits and pieces of data from the Jedi Archives and the history databanks on Coruscant, it appears that the Old Jedi Council appointed her to lead a taskforce to either capture or kill Darth Revan.

"Now, historically the last reported sightings of Darth Revan occurred somewhere in this system. It isn't far to believe that Bastila wouldn't be far behind him. According to the travel logs, she was on board the Endar Spire, a military transport that was destroyed over Taris approximately the same time the reports of Darth Revan's appearances surfaced. The Jedi Archives indicated that Bastila survived and wound up on Taris' surface."

Darvix glanced down again, still waiting to spot the ground below, "Now, the second reason we're coming down into this cozy little spot is a matter of logistics, so to speak. I got a hold of the schematics of the area Bastila reportedly wound up at. Old Taris was divided up into the portions, the upper city, the lower city, and the undercity. The entire planet was razed by Darth Malak, meaning that both the upper and lower cities were probably obliterated. Now, based on the design structure, it's highly probable that the undercity survived the onslaught based on its location. If there are any clues to be found, it would be there."

"So we're investigating a lead that was formed by spotty evidence and really is mostly conjecture?" Vik asked. "Can't say I'm overwhelmed by confidence right now, Dap."

"Does it help if I tell you I've got a good feeling about this?" Darvix teased.

"That's just the spice talking," Kasari replied.

***

Darvix released the duracord from his harness and stepped away from the mangled elevator shaft. Pulling his backpack off his shoulders, he reached in and retrieved the lantern he had brought. As he flipped on the light source, he was taken aback by what he saw

"Sweet mother of kriff," Vik said. "I can't believe this stuff is still standing after four thousand years."

All around them were makeshift huts, long since abandoned, but remarkalbly, still standing. The earth below them had begun taking over the shelters, but it was still apparent what had once been here. The Outcasts of Taris had been here at some point, and had likely survived the bombardment of the planet all those years ago. He was right that the undercity survived the bombardment, and if he was correct about a subsequent theory, than Darvix felt confident he would be on the fast track to discovering what happened to Darth Revan.

"What happens now?" Vik asked.

"We set up camp for the night," Darvix said quietly, "I need some time to think."

Darvix returned to his backpack and began to set up a survival tent, which he quickly retreated into. Prior to leaving Yavin IV, he had spent days in the Jedi Archives, studying every bit of information related to Revan he could get his hands on. When he had discovered Revan had been rumored to be on Taris prior to the end of the Jedi Civil War, Darvix decided to pull a few favors. Before he knew it, he had access to the history databanks on Coruscant, where he began to study Taris itself.

Of particular interest to him were the people of the Undercity. He knew that if any part of Taris survived the bombardment by the Sith fleet, it would have been the lowest portions. Darvix recognized that the chances were slim, but if the residents of the undercity survived four thousand years ago, their descendants may still exist on the planet. This theory was reinforced when he stumbled on to what appeared to be an old folklore tale that had been told to the citizens of the undercity.

The tale told of a so-called "promised land" that would spare the people from the hardships of the undercity. Darvix was shocked to find that the story had been preserved in the databank. Historically speaking, the story had been told by word-of-mouth for hundreds of years prior to the destruction of Taris. The story itself spoke of a land where cast-off beings of all races could find refuge and safety. At first, he had dismissed it as just what it appeared to be, a whimsical tale meant to give those suffering hope. Then he ran into one passage that changed his entire view.

Darvix held a datapad in his hand, reading over that one passage.

And as fire rains down from the sky, a savior will appear, holding the keys to salvation. This savior is not of your world, but is of pure heart. Trust him, and salvation will come to those who have suffered long and great.

The story was almost prophetic. Darvix assumed the "fire raining down from the skies" was the Sith Fleet as they bombarded the planet's surface. As for the so-called savior, Darvix assumed that it was Bastila Shan. Everything seemed to come together so conveniently for it to be a coincidence. The Sith invasion, the appearance of Revan, the crash-landing of Bastila Shan. It was all connected, and connected to the people of the undercity. If this promised land truly existed, than the residents of this desolate place just may have survived. If they still lived, they may hold the answers as to what happened to Darth Revan.

Setting the datapad down, Darvix repositioned himself in the tent, sitting cross-legged. Taking a deep breath, Darvix placed his hands in his lap and began to do something he rarely did. Closing his eyes, Darvix called upon the Force. As the comforting warmth flooded over his body, Darvix began to meditate.

***

* * *

Kasari shivered and drew her jacket closer to her frame. Darvix hadn't spoken to either her or Vik in hours. Either he was deep in thought, or he had drugged himself up to a new high. How someone like Darvix could become a Jedi Master confused her on a daily basis. Perhaps Skywalker felt pitty for the broken man. More likely, Skywalker had broken into Zorvan's spice stash and had promoted Darvix to Master thanks to a drug-induced high. Kasari sighed. The Force worked in many strange and mysterious ways, and Darvix was most certainly strange and mysterious.

"You know," Vik mused as he sat beside Kasari, "I had forgotten how bad military rations were. I'm beginning to remember why I dropped out of the Academy."

"I often wonder how he made it through Starfighter Academy," Kasari said. "Was he a good pilot?"

"You have to be if you're drafted by the Rogues," Vik replied. "From what I was told, the Rogues were strapped for pilots and had to dig into the rookie pool. Knowing Antilles, he wouldn't settle for anything less than the top of whichever graduating class was produced that session. It just so happened that Zorvan was at the top of his class."

"Racked up a bunch of simulator kills, I take it," Kasari said as she opened her thermos of hot caf.

"He was near the bottom of the pool when it came to ship-to-ship victories," Vik replied. "What he could do was rack up assists faster than anyone else. While I was still at the Academy, I typically would fly in wing-tandems with him. I'd take the point, and he'd fly as support…He treated combat as if it were a puzzle, always thinking a few steps ahead to try and outwit the enemy. Instead of going in to take kills, he'd fly back and assess the situation, calling out commands to his wingmen, drawing enemy fire, and serving as a decoy while others focused on creating space-superiority. He was one of the most selfless pilots I flew with."

"Zorvan was a "selfless" pilot?" Kasari asked, raising a brow. "Are we talking about the same man?"

"Don't think he was being noble or anything," Vik said, "although he'd like you to think that. He flew with that style out of necessity. During his career in the Starfighter Corps, he was legally blind. He wore a set of cybernetic eye implants to make up for his loss of eye-sight. In head-to-head combat, he was as good as dead. His eyes couldn't keep up fast enough to log any respectable amount of kills. The ones he did get were pure luck."

"So how did he graduate top of his class?"

"Pure instincts," Vik replied, "and tactical smarts. He knew his ship and what it could and couldn't do. Likewise, he knew his wingmen and what they could and couldn't do. He could make the most out of any starfighter wing. Zorvan had almost everything it took to be a wing leader or squadron commander."

"So what went wrong?" Kasari asked.

Vik shook his head, "He couldn't command respect from those under him. People believed that Darvix viewed combat as a game of numbers and statistics, something that could be manipulated if he could solve the puzzle. What's unfortunate is that they were right. He showed numerous times that he had little regard for the living beings involved in combat. The only thing that mattered was achieving the goals required for success.

"That," Vik continued, "creates a dilemma. On the one hand, you have a man who is a tactical genius, who is always two steps ahead of the enemy. On the other, the same man won't hesitate to exploit you in his plans to stay two steps ahead. Who do you want to trust your life to more? Someone who can all but guarantee success, or someone who will devote themselves to bringing you home to your family at the end of the day?"

Kasari shook her head, "So in the end, he's just a cold, heartless bastard."

"I said that initially, looking at the way he fought," Vik admitted, "but one day he said something that put it into perspective for me…Everyone who joins the military all but signs their death wish. They do it for their differing reasons, some for glory, some to make money, but just about every one of them lived through the Galactic Civil War when they were younger. They all join to ensure that no one has to go through what they did. Darvix knows that…As soon as he signed up, as soon as I or anyone else signed up, we said that the lives of the citizens were more important than our own, and we would go as far as laying down our own lives to protect them

"So he commanded others with that mindset, knowing that it was their duty to protect those that needed protecting," Vik continued. "That mindset was reflected in the way he led, and the way he flew. Sadly, he had one fatal flaw in his logic. He assumed that because he viewed his own life in a lesser light than the rest of the universe, that every other pilot and soldier shared that view on their own lives. Basic living instinct is to survive, but that instinct has been suppressed in Darvix's warped mind. He couldn't come to terms with that, and because of that, he failed to become a successful leader and pilot. For all that potential he had, it was all undone by his twisted view on his own importance in the Galaxy."

"It still sounds like he's a cold, heartless bastard," Kasari mused. "Sounds like he hasn't changed at all over the years."

"I suppose he is," Vik said. "Somewhere down there is buried some deep, virtuous seed of good. Unfortunately, it's hidden under the rest of his personality. His obsession with solving the puzzle at all costs gives him gratification, but isolates him from everyone else around him."

The two of them sat in silence for a little while longer before Vik spoke up, "I suppose one thing about him has changed, though…Now he's not afraid to show that he's miserable with himself."

***

* * *

He could hear them. Almost, anyways. Still, he was sure that they were out there, hidden somewhere on this decimated planet. As he stretched out with the Force, Darvix could sense faint whispering. Bits of a conversation here, the sounds of a child at play there. Darvix was convinced now; the promise land of Taris really did exist. Now it was simply a matter of finding it. Darvix reached out further with the Force, trying to formulate a vision within his mind to give him some sort of clue as to where to go.

It was pointless. Darvix couldn't use the Force to solve this puzzle, he needed more hard data. Data he didn't have. Sighing in defeat, Darvix exited the tent. He saw Vik and Kasari beside the lantern, no doubt gossiping about something. Kasari had been clinging to Vik lately, and for some reason, that bothered Darvix. Most likely, Darvix realized, it was because Vik knew much more about him than anyone else did. Darvix didn't want others knowing about his past as a pilot. If he could, he wouldn't reminisce about it himself. Shaking his head, Darvix strode away from the tent. Night had fallen, and the streams of sunlight that had been streaming in from the holes in the canopy had been extinguished. All around him was dark, barren wasteland.

Darvix stopped in place as he heard something snap from his side. Instinctively, his military training kicked in, as his hand darted to his side, poised to grab his sidearm. Stretching out with the Force once more, Darvix could detect the presence of someone nearby. It wasn't Kasari, and it wasn't Vik, that much he was sure of. Darvix released the safety on his blaster, pulling it out of its holster. Wrapping his hands around the handle and placing his index finger over the trigger, he brought his arms up, locking into a firing stance.

Warning bells suddenly fired off within his head. With the Force as his guide, Darvix jumped to the side, snapping off a shot. At the same moment, a red blaster bolt shot into the ground right where he was standing

"I swear if you don't show yourself right now, I'm going to blast you right between the eyes!" Darvix yelled.

"Not worried," a female voice said. "You missed me by five feet with your first shot."

Darvix recognized that voice. Lowing his blaster, Darvix stood up and pulled a glowrod from his belt, igniting it.

"Horn?" Darvix asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Ah, right," Mirax Terrik Horn said. "You're one of Wedge's boys."

***

* * *

"I can't believe she almost took his head off," Kasari said as he looked over at Darvix and the newcomer.

"I can't believe she missed," Vik mused. "Do you have any idea who that is?"

Kasari shrugged, "How should I know?"

"I don't know," Vik responded. "I suppose that if you've been hiding in a cave with your fingers shoved up your ears screaming the Vader Bantha Steak theme song at the top of your lungs, you wouldn't know. That's Mirax Terrik Horn, daughter of the great Booster Terrik."

"Kriff," Kasari groaned. "What is it with Zorvan and finding smugglers everywhere we go?"

"Smugglers make everything more entertaining," Vik mused. "They're like the drunken houseguest at a party."

"I'd find that to be rather rude and annoying."

"See, this is why no one thinks you're any fun," Vik said.

"Who says I'm not any fun?" Kasari asked.

"Myself, Zorvan, and most of the known Galaxy."

On the other side of the makeshift campfire the party had set up, Darvix was glancing over a datapad he had brought with him, all the while idly chatting with Mirax. Darvix had first met her on his first assignment with Rogue Squadron. She had smuggled the Rogues into the Imperial controlled planet Telos, where they then stole one of the last remaining Phantom-D34 class TIE Fighters. It proved to be a rather traumatic ride, filled with all the clichés that could possibly be found in a B-Grade Coruscant holodrama. Ultimately, it culminated in him losing his left arm from the elbow down. At least now he could claim he was in the hallowed "Prosthetic Limb Society" within the New Republic military. Hell, he could probably be president of that society when he coupled that with his old cybernetic eyes.

No, Darvix mused to himself. That would involve me getting into more accidents than Hobbie. I don't want that.

"So what brings you out to this backwater, Rhakgoul infested wasteland?" Mirax asked.

"Visions of grand adventure, noble deeds, and saving damsels in distress," Darvix replied.

"Delusions of grandeur?"

"Nah, that's just the spice talking," Darvix said. "What about you?"

"Officially, I'm gathering information for a client," Mirax said. "Unofficially, I'm treasure hunting."

"Treasure hunting?" Darvix asked. "Seems a little juvenile, don't you think?"

"What can I say?" Mirax said. "I'm just a child in heart, I suppose."

"Well, you're child-like innocence confirms that," Darvix joked as his eyes glanced from her face to her chest, "but that rack says you're all woman, baby."

Mirax frowned at Darvix, sitting more upright, "You know, if I were like most other women, I would have either slapped you or poured my hot caf all over you."

"But you're not like most other women," Darvix mused. "Come on, dump that prude Corran. You could do so much better with me."

"Eh, you're right," Mirax admitted. "I'm not like most other women. I'm considering castrating you where you sit."

Darvix grinned, "I bet I can figure out who's the dominant one in your marriage."

"Damn straight," Mirax "Corran's whipped."

Darvix laughed and shook his head, "So, you're on a treasure hunt. What is this treasure you're looking for?"

"Not sure," Mirax confessed. "I stumbled across some rather archaic information in Karrde's library a few months ago. It's written in rather primitive Basic, but from what I gather, it's speaking of a 'promised land' hidden somewhere on this planet."

Darvix's head shot up, "Do you have this information on you right now?"

"Sure," Mirax said, raising a brow, "but it'll cost you."

"Fine, fine," Darvix said. "My tent, 0200 hours. Would you like it gentle and sensual or hot, steamy, and rough?"

"None of the above, thank you," Mirax said, brushing off Darvix's crude mock-advances. "Ten thousand credits."

"Done," Darvix said. "The Jedi Academy will cover it."

Mirax stared at Darvix in silence for a few moments, "Damn, should have asked for fifteen thousand."

***

How Mirax ended up with the information that now rested in Darvix's hands was far beyond him. He suspected that she bartered it off of Talon Karrde. That man seemed to have information concerning everything. If Karrde didn't have information that someone was looking for, than something was terribly wrong in the Galaxy. With the new data in his possession, the party left the camp, returning to the surface. That was nearly two days ago.

For months he had been looking for a break, some sort of connection between the surviving travel logs, journals, and this mysterious "promised land" legend born to the impoverished on Taris generations ago. Now he had it, and it only cost the Jedi Academy ten-thousand credits. Tens of thousands of years earlier, Taris had been a temperate and oceanic world. As the massive urban sprawl took over the world, the oceans and the trees vanished. After the Sith fleet laid waste to the planet, the original terrain returned. In the four thousand years since, trees returned to much of the surface, bodies of water replaced decimated cities.

Darvix looked through the left viewport of his X-Wing, glancing at the second identical starfighter flanking his wing. To his right was Pulsar Skate, Mirax Terrik Horn's personal smuggling vessel. Vik was waiting on the Tatooine Gallows, prepping the transport for immediate departure. Below him was a deep blue ocean, pierced every now and then by a small landform. Darvix eased back on his throttle as Zone beeped behind him. They were getting close to the coordinates he had pulled from the datapad Mirax had provided him.

"Visual contact," Mirax said over the comlink. "I'd say about five hundred kilometers across."

"Contact confirmed," Darvix acknowledged. "See any place to set down?"

"Got a clearing that should be big enough," Mirax replied.

"I do have to ask, Horn," Darvix said as he began calculating an entry approach, "how did you end up with this information?"

"I've got my resources," Mirax said.

"A lot of grammatical issues in this information," Darvix noted. "Looks like it's been translated from something else, I assume this is Karrde's work?"

"I'd venture to say that's a wise assumption."

"I'll have to pay Karrde a visit later," Darvix noted. "The bastard father I never had might have some information I need."

"He has information everyone needs," Mirax said. "The question is if you have enough credits to pay for that information. I suppose you could say he's got a monopoly on that particular market."

As Darvix set down, he lifted the orange visor on his helmet, undoing the harness holding him into his flightseat. Undoing the chinstrap, he took his helmet off and set it atop the flight console. Darvix stood and leapt to the ground below, wasting no time in opening the underbelly compartment of his X-Wing and pulling out his duffel bag. As he changed into more comfortable civilian clothing, he heard the ramp of the Pulsar Skate hissing open.

"I envy you Lisae," Mirax said aloud as Kasari jumped from her X-Wing cockpit to the ground below, "you get to stare at that rear end all day."

"You had your chance, Horn," Darvix replied. "You choose the money instead."

"What a shame," Kasari muttered.

"It truly is a shame," Darvix said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Every woman should be able to experience the Sir Darvix firsthand."

"And you accuse me of having delusions of grandeur," Kasari said, shooting a glare at Darvix.

***

* * *

"Just what are you hoping to find?" Darvix asked Mirax as he pushed through the thick vegetation.

"I could ask you the same question," Mirax replied, "but knowing you were a Rogue, and you're now all cozy with Skywalker, I probably don't want to know."

Darvix chuckled slightly, "My reputation precedes me, I see. Regardless, my question to you still stands."

Mirax cast a sideways glance at Darvix, blowing a strand of jet-black hair out of her eyes, "It all comes back to information. Karrde pays for it, and pays well. Sometimes a smuggler needs to do something on the side to supplement the rest of her work."

"Karrde's hired you, I see," Darvix noted has he glanced up at the sky above. "I assume you'll get a pretty bonus if you find some useful information that he can put on the market."

"Can't blame a girl for wanting some extra credits on the side," Mirax replied.

"He's not the primary reason you're here, though, is it?" Darvix said, staring straight forward. "You're working for someone else right now, right?"

Mirax was silent. Darvix knew he had hit on something.

"Something was bothering me the moment you showed me that datapad," Darvix said. "If you had known where this place was, you wouldn't have ended up in the undercity. You were looking for me, because you had no idea what the hell to do with that information. I'm guessing that husband of yours told you I was here after you brought up Taris in dinner conversation. Certainly Jedi Boy would have some useful information."

Mirax was still silent as Darvix continued, "Of course, Horn wouldn't let you simply go out to some Imperial backwater world without a good reason, would he? Not that overprotective bastard. Unless you were running an errand for the Republic, he wouldn't dare let you go."

"Let's see," Darvix said, pausing for a moment. "A few Republic outposts in some neighboring sectors are involved in border combat, if I remember correctly. Must be difficult to get supplies out there from Coruscant. Could you, perhaps, be liberating some supplies from the Imperial naval base here on Taris in hopes of getting them to Republic forces? All the while, you're really information hunting for Karrde. My oh my, Mirax, you've been a busy girl."

"Corran told me you were an ass," Mirax replied. "He neglected to tell me you were an NRI criminal profiler by night."

"Nah, Jedi by day, children's holo-hero by night," Darvix said with a wry smile. "Tell me, my dear, how right was I?"

"Oh, hit and miss," Mirax said. "You already know I'm doing some work for Karrde. You are right in the fact that I'm smuggling some… liberated… supplies to a Republic medical platform nearby. You are wrong about Corran, though."

Darvix raised a brow, "Damn, I was sure I had at least that part of your story nailed down. Enlighten me, my dear Mirax. Whatever detail did I miss whilst deducing what you've been up to the last few weeks?"

"Oh, nothing major," Mirax replied with a smile, "other than the fact I didn't tell Corran I'm here."

"Well why stop there?" Darvix asked. "We could set up camp, share some spice, and keep eachother warm. You don't have to tell him that, either."

"Not in your lifetime," Mirax said as her hand dropped lower to her blaster.

"You don't know what you're missing," Darvix replied as he grinned broadly.

"Ignorance is bliss, in my opinion."

"Touché," Darvix replied.

***

* * *

They were close, so incredibly close. As Darvix stretched out with the force, the voices became more and more pronounced. The sounds of children at play and adults conversing echoed through his mind. Life was teaming, it was nearby. Somehow, the residents of Taris' undercity had survived the Sith onslaught over four-thousand years earlier. Now they were thriving, Darvix could feel it. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he retrieved the datapad he had purchased from Mirax.

It appeared to be written in a crude translation into Basic. From what language it originally hailed was unknown to Darvix. Somewhere, according to the datapad, the entrance to the Promised Land awaited them. It was nearby, perhaps a lift of some sort. Darvix had long suspected that this Promised Land was hidden well below the planet's surface. It was the only possible way the outcasts could have survived Darth Malak's bombardment of Taris.

The group had stopped about a half hour ago in the middle of a forested area to rest. Kasari was sitting atop of a large boulder, glancing around the area as if on guard. Mirax was leaning against a tree, idly polishing her blaster. As Darvix looked away from Mirax, something caught his eye. He tilted his head to the side as he caught sight of a wall of solid rock a few meters ahead of him. As he moved towards it, he spotted something odd: a small, almost unnoticeable vertical line. He traced his index finger along it, smiling to himself. This line was far too straight to have occurred naturally. Something was hidden behind this wall.

Taking a step back, Darvix raised his arm, his hand pointing at the crack. Closing his eyes, he called upon the Force. He visualized the crack spreading wider, opening as if it were a doorway. Darvix gritted his teeth as he put more effort into his attempt. Sure enough, the crack slowly widened, centimeter by centimeter, but not quick enough. After a few more agonizing moments, Darvix lowered his arm, trying to catch his breath. As he feared, his connection with the Force wasn't strong enough right now. He wasn't focused. Perhaps a shot of spice would help-

"I'll be damned," Kasari said. "You found it."

"Of course I did," Darvix replied without skipping a beat. "Now go ahead and open it, Lisae."

"Can't you?" his apprentice asked, raising a brow.

"I found it, you open it," Darvix said, staring straight forward. "It's only fair, after all. I can't hog all the glory."

"You can't op-"

"Open it, Lisae," Darvix said firmly, casting a cold glare at her.

"…Yes, Master," Kasari replied.

Darvix watched as Kasari repeated the steps he just took. He could literally see a sense of calm wash over her as she called upon the Force. Without even a hint of effort, she raised her hands, motioning for the two portions of the rock wall to part. The heavy stone obliged to her command, slowly separating to reveal a dark chamber behind it. Moments later, Kasari lowered her arm, casting a glance at Darvix.

"Looking for a compliment, Lisae?" Darvix asked. "You did your job, congratulations."

Before she could object, Darvix moved forward, pulling a glowrod off his belt and igniting it. As he stepped into the chamber, he cast the rod's light about. It appeared he had stumbled into an old elevator system of some sort. He wasn't sure when it was last used, or even if it was still operational. Still, this was a very encouraging sight. They were close to entering the Promised Land now.

***

* * *

Darvix sat on the floor of the lift as it continued its slow descent into who knew what. His hand idly stroked the cool metal of his lightsaber that he had pulled off his belt. It occurred to him that he had yet to ignite the blade. He was quickly approaching the two year mark, the last time he had wielded a live lightsaber. Ever since his ill-fated duel with Corran Horn, he had refused to use the weapon of the Jedi. In practice, he used old vibroswords the Academy had as training tools for younger students. Skywalker had once made him use his old lightsaber in an exercise upon his arrival at the Academy, but handed it to Skywalker at the end of the lesson, never to use it again.

That blade had been his fathers. The very lightsaber he had used to slay his own mother in a fit of rage on his homeworld of Nar Shaddaa. When Skywalker ordered him to resume the use of the lightsaber, Darvix refused to use that blade. Instead, he opted to construct his own lightsaber, the one that rested in his hands at this very moment. His skills were probably rusty, and he probably should brush up on saber-weilding skills. He knew as well as anyone else he would have to call upon his weapon in the future. That much was inevitable.

"I think I see something," Mirax said.

Darvix stood and peered over the railing of the lift. Sure enough, there was ground below, and lights not far off in the distance. It was as if they had dropped into a massive cavern, stretched further than the eye could see. As Darvix squinted into the distance, he realized just what it was he was staring at. A massive city, buried deep below the planet surface. This was the Promised Land! A safe haven from the Sith bombardment four-thousand years earlier.

"I'll be damned," Darvix muttered to himself. "That crazy prophecy was true."

"Prophecy?" Mirax asked, casting a glance at Darvix.

"An old transcript I found in the Coruscant libraries. There was an old legend passed down among the old Taris undercity residents of a Promised Land that would save them from a day when 'fire would rain down from the skies above.' I wondered just how that could be true…The raining fire was no doubt the Sith destroyer that laid waste to Taris' surface. Now it makes sense, they survived by going underground…Apparently it was so nice down here, they stuck around for four-thousand years."

"What do we do now?" Kasari asked

"Simple," Darvix replied. "Find someone and order them to 'take us to their leader.'"

***

* * *

As Darvix slowly trudged through the dark caverns, he felt his hand slinking closer and closer to his hand blaster. Something in the back of his mind told him that it would probably be best to leave the safety off today. He wasn't sure if it was the Force pulling at his nerves, or if it was simply the fact that he was hundreds of feet below the surface moving towards (what he assumed) was a city that may, or may not be, inhabited by people who were assumed to have been wiped out four thousand years earlier. Either way, he would be leaving the safety off his blaster.

Darvix took one more step forward. Suddenly the Force began pounding inside his head as if klaxon alarms had been surgically implanted in his brain. Quickly pulling out his blaster, he snapped off a quick shot into the darkness. Immediately, he knew he had missed his target. As he heard the sound of a blaster bolt, he stumbled backwards, just in time to see a red bolt land on the ground right in front of him. Before Darvix could move any further, Mirax fired two shots into the direction the enemy blaster fire had come from. The sound of laser on metal echoed through the cavern.

_Metal?_ Darvix asked himself.

"For the love of the Force," Mirax said as she cast a sideways glance at Darvix. "You missed again. Who taught you how to shoot a blaster? My husband?"

"Well if you had taken me up on my offer, I could prove to you that I'm a much bet-"

"You comment on my sex life one more time and I swear, Zorvan," Mirax replied with a glare, "You will find your manhood on permanent display on the Skate."

"I appreciate you trying to clean up the gene pool, Ms. Horn," Kasari said from the shadows, "but you might want to take a look at this."

Darvix moved towards Kasari, igniting his glowrod. On the ground was a smouldering hunk of metal. It took Darvix a few moments to recognize just what it was: a droid. A rather primitive droid. It vaguely resembled a protocol droid; humoresque features, arms and legs, torso, a head. Clutched in its cold, metallic hands was what appeared to be a blaster rifle. Darvix prodded the droid with his foot, partly to see if it would respond, mostly to calm his nerves.

"I'll be damned," Darvix said to himself. "That part of the tale –was- true."

"What part of the tale?" Mirax asked.

"Apparently popular belief at the time indicated that the Promised Land was staffed by hundreds of servant droids," Darvix replied. "I didn't buy into it, though."

"Why's that?" Kasari asked as she pried the blaster out of the droid's hands.

"The answer should be obvious," Darvix said as he stood upright. "Droids would make lousy concubines."

"Servants, Zorvan," Kasari replied with disgust. "Not sex slaves."

"What's the fun in that?"

"Zorvan," Mirax interrupted.

"What?" Darvix replied as he bent over to look at the droid again.

"I think we're in trouble."

"Did you forget to use the 'fresher before we left?"

"Shut up," Mirax said. "Look up. You might want to put your arms in the air in a surrendering gesture as well."

Darvix did. Darvix regretted it. The three of them were now surrounded by droids, armed with blaster rifles, all of which were pointed right at them.

"I'm going to have to agree with your assessment of the situation, Horn," Darvix replied as he raised his arms to surrender.

***

* * *

Darvix frowned to himself as he tried to flex his hands, which were inconveniently bound behind his back. Shortly after he had been surrounded by the battle droids, two humans arrived on scene to take them into custody. His blaster and lightsaber had been taken away, leaving him utterly defenseless…well, defenseless against a bunch of Vitamin C deficient bottom-dwellers who spent more time in the dark than a horde of holo-gamers at a network party. If all else failed, he could shine a glow-rod in their eyes and escape while they were trying to recover their night-vision.

Grimacing as his human captor jabbed the barrel of a blaster rifle in his back, Darvix turned his head to the side, "You know, in some cultures it's considered rude to hold someone hostage and hold an armed weapon at their back… Although on Bothawuii that's considered to be a sign of affection."

Darvix's captor yelled something almost incoherent at him as he jabbed the blaster into Darvix's back again. Picking up the pace, Darvix glanced back at the man again. Had he just spoken an alien language? It wasn't like anything he had ever heard from another species, but at the same time, it seemed vaguely familiar.

"Excuse me," Darvix said, "Could you repeat what you just-"

This time the butt of the blaster found its mark on Darvix's kidneys. Stumbling forward, Darvix winced in pain as the shock knocked the air out of his lungs. As Darvix silently fumed to himself, whishing that he could call upon the Force to smite his captor, Darvix and the others were led deeper into the underground city. Before long, they were brought into a large audience chamber.

_Okay, this can go one of two ways,_ Darvix mused to himself. _Either we're about to be greeted with open arms, or we are about to be publically humiliated and thrown into prison. I'm banking on the latter_

Darvix looked over at Kasari, whose faced was a tangled mess of fear and outrage. Momentarily, Darvix felt guilty for getting her involved in this mess. Had he been more alert, they wouldn't have been ambushed. Perhaps if he had just taken the time to do more research before he left, he would have been better prepared. Mentally, Darvix shrugged off that thought. Lisae knew what she was getting into. This was a part of the job description. If she was scared, she would have to learn to deal with it.

Their captors left them in the center of the chamber and walked away from them. At the far side was a single woman. Darvix watched as the men who had taken them into custody laid out the confiscated weapons. He tilted his head slightly as the woman bent over to pick up a lightsaber. Judging by the hilt, it was Lisae's. Suddenly, with a snap and a sharp hiss, the woman flipped the blade to life. A deep blue blade emerged from the hilt, its vibrations reverberating throughout the room.

As the woman turned off the lightsaber, she looked directly at Darvix. The woman motioned to a guard, who approached Darvix and undid the cuffs holding his arms behind his back. Darvix took a hold of his left wrist, rubbing it to try and return the feeling into his hands.

"What happens now?" Mirax asked.

"Honestly," Darvix said, "I have no idea."

The woman was fast approaching the three outsiders. Her skin was almost sickly pale, which was understandable. Little sunlight reached this place, and no artificial light could provide a pure substitute for the nutrients the planet's sun provided. Still, there was something almost mysteriously beautiful about her. All about her was an aura of intelligence and composure. Instinctively, Darvix reached to his side, trying to grasp for the hand blaster that wasn't there. Sighing inwardly, Darvix allowed his arms to drop to his sides.

The woman looked directly at Darvix for a moment before speaking. Though he could not understand what she said, the tone seemed to imply that she was asking a question. Once again, Darvix felt as if this language seemed vaguely familiar.

"Do you understand a word she's saying?" Mirax asked.

"No," Darvix admitted.

The woman spoke again. Suddenly, Darvix thought he heard something recognizable.

"Of course…" Darvix muttered.

"What?"

"Primitive Basic," Darvix said. "Well, pseudo-primitive Basic. Why didn't I think about this sooner? Four thousand years, of course there's going to be dialectical differences. Vader's Bones, I'm an idiot."

Darvix thought for a moment before he spoke to the woman, carefully formulating his words as he slowly replied.

"My name is Darvix," he said in the seemingly alien language.

"I am Ahmi Traln," the woman said, "I am the chief scholar of the Promised City archives."

"You're a Jedi," Ahmi replied, though it took Darvix a few moments to process that statement. "We've long been expecting you, Descendent."

"Yes," Darvix said, surprise showing on his face as the woman addressed him in that odd manner.. "I've been sent by the Jedi Academy on Yavin IV."

Ahmi shook her head, "There is no Academy on Yavin IV."

"No…the when the last Jedi visited your people, there were Academies on Dantooine and Coruscant, correct?"

"Yes…that is what our records show," the woman countered.

"The Dantooine Academy was destroyed almost four-thousand years ago…The Coruscant Academy fell almost twenty years ago," Darvix said. "Who…who is cited with giving you the information about these Academies?"

"Two people," Ahmi said. "Jedi Shan and her partner, Jedi Revan."

Darvix felt as if Ahmi had just punched him in the stomach, "P…partner?"

"Our mythos states that they were both close," Ahmi replied. "They worked together to bring us the information of the Promised Land. They saved my people. It is because of them we have thrived here."

"Are your records certain that it was Revan who brought you this information?" Darvix demanded.

"There is little doubt. Though we were not sure of his identity initially, Jedi Revan returned to us after we settled in the Promised Land to deliver to us another prophecy."

"Another prophecy?" Darvix asked. "What do you mean?"

"You do not know?" Ahmi asked, visibly shocked. "It concerns you, Descendant. Jedi Revan predicted that you would arrive here."

"What else?" Darvix asked, his eyes wide, "What else did Revan say?"

"He only referred to you as "The Descendant," Ahmi explained. "Jedi Revan said that you would come to tell us that Taris was alive once more, and that it was safe for us to return to the surface."

"Why?" Darvix asked, "Why did he call me the Descendant?"

Ahmi looked at Darvix with regret, "I'm sorry, Jedi Darvix, but I do not know."

Darvix looked to Mirax and Kasari, who looked back at him with an expression of sheer, utter confusion.

"What did she say?" Kasari asked.

"I…I…" Darvix stuttered. "Sithspit…Lisae, if what Ahmi told me is true then…Oh kriff… Lisae if this is true, everything we know about Revan is wrong."


	15. Rogue Nature

**Chapter Thirteen - Rogue Nature**

In the corner of a dimly lit room, Darvix sat at a large desk. Piles of ancient datapads and an old terminal were strewn all around him. On the floor were crumpled up sheets of flimsy he had discarded. Ahmi had taken him to an archive center within the underground city upon his request (or as Lisae had put it, his demand). Everything he had just heard concerning Revan seemed to contradict the information held within the Jedi Archives. It was widely accepted that he was a fallen Jedi who had become a Sith Lord. Old Republic records showed that he had laid waste to countless systems following the Mandalorian War. To the people of the Promised Land, however, Revan was nothing short of a savior. It didn't make sense, it had to be wrong. Revan was a tool of the Sith Empire, a destroyer of worlds.

Yet everything in front of him refuted that.

Darvix rubbed his eyes as he set another sheet of flimsy to the side of the desk. He had lost track of time long ago, he was simply too engrossed in the material before him to care. He picked up another datapad and powered it on, carefully reading down the text. Never in his wildest dreams did he think the Old Basic course he took at the Starfighter Academy as an elective would ever come in handy. It was a common misconception that Basic was just that, basic. It is a language that is timeless, a language that never changes. As time passes, however, dialects tend to change. Four thousand years was a long time for a language to develop. That was why it was so difficult trying to understand what Ahmi was saying, it was all but a foreign language.

Earlier he had read over a datapad that discussed Revan's last appearance on Taris. This occurred a while after he had helped the Undercity citizens find a pathway to the Promised Land. According to Revan, the surface of Taris was still uninhabitable, and probably would remain that way for a long time. It was on this visit that Revan had made a prophecy to the people of the Promised Land: in four-thousand years, an outsider will emerge. This man will tell you that Taris is once again inhabitable, and that it is time to return to the surface. Revan referred to this man as "The Descendant," but it was unclear as to why.

Perhaps that was what troubled him the most. Yes, Darvix knew that he was part of the lineage of Atton Rand, an associate of another fallen Jedi, but as far as he knew, there was no relation between Rand and Revan. Something didn't add up, and it bothered him greatly.

"Zorvan, it's time to go," Mirax said from behind him.

"Busy, Horn," Darvix muttered.

"We had a deal, it's time for you to pay up. I've got supplies on the Skate that have to be transported."

Darvix frowned. He didn't want to put a project to the side just when he was hitting his stride, but she had a point. In addition to the credits he had promised, he had offered to fly an escort pattern alongside the Skate until she could get to a hyperspace lane. Reluctantly, Darvix packed up his materials and made his exit.

***

* * *

Darvix pulled up the zipper on his flightsuit as he looked up at his X-Wing. Zone, his R2 unit, had begun the system startup as soon as he had stepped back onto the Taris surface. Below them, the people of the Promised Land were making their preparations to return to the surface. He had the information he came for, and now he could leave this backwater planet. With his flightsuit now on, Darvix grabbed hold of the ladder recessed into the hull of his X-Wing and climbed aboard, sitting down in his flightseat and strapping in.

Moments later, Darvix, Kasari, and Mirax were putting space between them and Taris. Darvix watched as the blue skies gave way to the dotted black of space, "Alright ladies, atmosphere cleared. Lisae, if you would kindly turn your forward and aft sensors on."

"Zorvan, nice of you to show up," Vik Kelrune's voice said over the comlink, "Playing in the holosimulator by yourself gets a little old after a while."

Darvix grinned slightly as he glanced through his starboard viewport, catching a glimpse of the Tatooine Gallows lurching its way through space, "We're going to proceed to Hyperspace Lane thirty-two alpha. After the jump we'll break apart and head our separate ways. Sound good to you, Horn?"

"Acknowledged, flyboy," Mirax replied.

Darvix glanced down at his flight console, plotting a few coordinates into his computer to have Zone check over. As he was entering in data, his forward sensor came to life, showing a few blips in the distance.

"Zone, route me a long-range readout into monitor B, will you?" Darvix asked.

His R2 unit chirped an affirmative. Darvix glanced down at the screen to his right, entering in an input to activate the Friend/Foe indicator. Within moments, his cockpit was ablaze with the sound of alarms.

"Sithspit, we've got trouble," Darvix said. "Reading one large Imperial Capitol Ship about to drop out of hyperspace. I've got a feeling this isn't a Dreadnaught we can outrun. Damnit Horn, I think you were followed."

"It sure looks that way, what are we up against?"

Before Darvix could answer, he spotted a white figure racing towards them. His stomach sank as the ship finally dropped out of hyperspace. It was an Imperial Interdictor Cruiser. He had faced off against one several years earlier, and it had nearly cost him and his wingman their lives. Interdictors were Star Destroyers outfitted with enormous gravity well generators, rendering escapes to hyperspace impossible. They carried with them a full complement of starfighters to intercept targets. Escaping the snare of an Interdictor was incredibly difficult with a full squadron of starfighters. Escaping with two X-Wings and two freighters was all but impossible.

"Doesn't look good," Darvix mused. "Setting up for attack formation. Lisae, set your S-Foils into combat mode and set your weapon fire to cross-deuce."

"Zorvan, we're outgunned," Kasari replied. "Surrendering might be the most prudent-"

"They're not interested in taking prisoners!" Darvix snapped. "They know Horn has looted cargo. That's what they want, not us! If we don't fight back, we're as good as space debris!"

"A passive approach will allow us-"

"Don't give me that passive approach garbage, Lisae!" Darvix yelled into his microphone. "Get set up for an attack formation."

"Negative, Zorvan," Kasari replied. "You can pull that stunt yourself. I don't have a death wish. I'm going to stay in a holding pattern with the freighters."

"A holding pattern isn't going to help, Lisae," Darvix adjusted his weapons controls. "If we don't take care of that Interdictor we're done for."

"Taking on a cruiser? You're-"

Darvix tuned her out of the communicator and hailed the Pulsar Skate, "Looks like we've only got one way to get out of this. Hold back here in a defensive pattern. I'm going to try and punch a hole through that cruiser's shields."

"I read you, Zorvan," Mirax replied. "Try not to get yourself killed, you owe me money."

Darvix shook his head as he looked forward. He could see Imperial TIE Fighters pouring out of the Interdictor. He'd have to fight his way through that screen first before making a run at the cruiser. After that, it was a matter of avoiding turbolaser fire and reaching the underbelly of the ship. If he timed this right, he would have only one chance. The only exposed part that he could possibly exploit was the large open hanger. He could punch a proton torpedo or two through there and hopefully do some damage.

"Dap, got a new reading," Vik's voice rang through his helmet mounted speakers. "Looks like…Twelve New Republic signatures, starfighter class."

"Thank the Force," Mirax responded. "Backup's here."

"Backup?" Darvix asked.

"Good night," a familiar voice said. "Looks like you're in a bit of trouble there, Mirax."

"Ah, Major Janson, good of you and the rest of Wedge's boys to join us," Mirax's voice hissed over the comlink. "I have one of your old friends flying escort for me. Might prove to be useful."

"I'll make that call," another Republic pilot said. "Care to identify yourself, escort?"

"Jedi Master Darvix Zorvan at your service," Darvix grinned. "That you, General Antilles?"

"None other," Wedge Antilles replied, "Rogues, tag Mr. Zorvan as Rogue Thirteen. Three-flight, he's yours."

Darvix glanced down at a console-mounted monitor as flight assignments began filtering onto the screen. Three flight now consisted of four X-Wings, Rogues Three, Six, Nine, and himself. Three and Six were Majors Wes Janson and Ace Azzameen respectively; both legendary pilots who probably should have been given their own squadrons to command years earlier. Rogue Nine was a pilot that Darvix didn't particularly care for, Captain Corran Horn: Jedi and New Republic Military officer. Darvix shook his head. He could give Horn a piece of his mind later, there were more important affairs to tend to.

"Thirteen, this is Three," Wes' voice broke over the comlink. "Looks like that Interdictor is jamming our targeting systems. Remember that stunt you pulled in your first simulator run with us?"

"Fondly, Janson," Darvix recalled. "Are you suggesting we try it in real-time?"

"Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

Almost three years ago, Darvix had been strapped into a simulator as part of a difficult assessment to determine whether or not to place him into active duty with Rogue Squadron as a greenhorn pilot. The scenario itself was tricky to diagnose. An Imperial Dreadnaught and an Interdictor Star Destroyer drop out of hyperspace within moments of eachother. Initially, the mission parameters appear to be escape with your lives, but Darvix had spotted a wing of Bomber-class TIEs moving for an intercept of the Dreadnaught. The mission then changed from escape to protect the defecting Dreadnaught. The flight of X-Wings Darvix was leading in the simulator needed to destroy the Interdictor, and Darvix decided to employ a crazy stunt to pull off the impossible.

"Who's the dummy-target?" Darvix asked.

"Well, seeing as you're the guest of honor today, I think it would be fair to give you that responsibility," Wes replied.

"Of course, less of a mess to clean up on your end if things go wrong," Darvix noted sourly.

"That," Major Azzameen interrupted, "and you're not union. Makes you more expendable than us."

"I think we have more important things to deal with than making jokes," Corran noted, "and let the record show that I object to using Zorvan in this manner."

"That's Jedi Master Zorvan to you, Horn," Darvix adjusted his flightpath, pulling the Interdictor into his sights. "Three-flight, I'm setting up for a direct run on the bridge. Request that Two-flight join in on this festival, General."

"Acknowledged, Thirteen," Wedge responded. "Two-flight, form up with Three flight. One flight, break off and provide space-superiority for Mr. Zorvan. Four flight, hang back and provide cover for the Skate and the Gallows."

Affirmatives rang through the communication system. Darvix looked ahead and saw six X-Wings breaking off formation. In the distance, TIE Interceptors were approaching. One and Four flight would draw off those fighters long enough for Darvix to put his plan into action. When he had performed this stunt in the simulator, there were only four X-Wings. This time there was a full compliment of fighters, giving him a greater chance for success.

"Okay Two and Three flight, this is Thirteen," Darvix said. "We're going to pull what is known as the Horn Maneuver, named after your own Rogue Nine…although it should be named after me, because I make it look better, but I digress. Set your throttles to two-thirds forward thurst, and on your mark, fire every last proton torpedo you have in your bays on my craft signature. I'm going to fly these suckers into the cruiser for you."

"Acknowledged, Thirteen," Wes interrupted. "As soon as your salvos are off, your primary objective is to cover the escape route of the Gallows and the Skate. They're all yours, Dap."

"I read you, Three," Darvix replied. "Two and Three flights, fire on my mark."

Darvix glanced at his tactical readout and performed a few quick calculations in his head. He had pulled this stunt off in a simulator once before, and he was confident he could do it again. Entering a few numbers into the computer, a timer appeared on his Heads-Up-Display, quickly counting backwards. In the back of his mind, Darvix marveled at how quickly he readjusted into a military mindset. It was as if he had never left Rogue Squadron…that thought disturbed him.

The timer reached zero, and the alarm in his cockpit sounded, "Mark. Fire!"

He tightened the grip on his flightstick as the blue streaks of proton torpedoes sailed towards his X-Wing. There should be enough distance for the torpedoes to not strike his ship. Now, if he timed this just right, he would sail towards the bridge of the Interdictor Star Destroyer and pull back at the last second. The torpedoes wouldn't be able to adjust in time, and would slam into the shields of the Imperial capitol ship. Of course, this was all dependent on his calculations being precise. If he was off, he was as good as dead.

Darvix gritted his teeth as he approached the cruiser. Turbolaser fire began to rock his X-Wing, tearing into his deflector shields at an alarming pace. The bridge tower grew closer and closer, just a few more moments. Warning alarms sounded once more as the torpedoes came within striking range of his X-Wing. Finally, at the very last moment, Darvix pulled back on his flightstick, throwing his X-Wing into a violent upward motion. His inertial compensator couldn't quite keep up with the change in direction, and blackness began tugging at the corners of Darvix's eyes as the blood rushed away from his head. Now he was flying alongside the bridge of the Interdictor, the hull of the Imperial ship at his X-Wing's belly.

His starfighter rocked as the torpedoes slammed into the shields of the enemy ship. As Darvix glanced behind him, he watched as the defense finally gave way, and the remaining torpedoes punctured the hull of the mighty vessel. The lights onboard the cruiser dimmed and flickered out, and the entire ship began veering off its flightpath.

"It's a hit, it's a hit!" Janson yelled over the communications system.

"Don't celebrate yet," Wedge interrupted. "Got a wing of TIEs breaking off and heading towards the Skate. Zorvan, you're the closest for an intercept."

"I see 'em," Darvix replied. "Thirteen engaging."

With the Interdictor gone, Darvix shunted a bit of power away from his shields to his engines. He pulled the nearest Interceptor up on his targeting computer. Darvix hurried as fast as he could, but the Interceptors were getting dangerously close to the freighters and Lisae's X-Wing. Frowning to himself, Darvix decided to push all of the energy devoted to his shields to his engines. Now he would have to be extraordinarily careful with how he flew. Just keep those TIEs busy long enough for the rest of the Rogues to get into position.

His targeting brackets flashed green as the clump of Interceptors pulled within range of his weapons system. Quickly, he snapped off a series of laser shots. Immediately, one Interceptor burst into a ball of flame and gas, leaving three to contend with. Darvix circled around, pulling another into his brackets, but this time, he couldn't make clean contact. The Interceptor was too fast, and it kept darting in and out of his sights. Just as Darvix was about to fire off another shot, a pair of red bolts burst through the Interceptor.

"That got him!" an unidentified Rogue yelled through the communicator.

"Are you expecting praise or something?" Darvix asked. "Go back to work."

"Rogue Squadron, this is the Skate," Mirax interjected. "Reached safe hyperspace coordinates. We'll see you on the other side."

With that, the Pulsar Skate and the Tatooine Gallows disappeared into hyperspace. Not long after, the Rogues finished mopping up. Darvix finally let his body relax. As he let out a jagged breath, he felt his hands starting to shake. The familiar pangs of spice withdrawl shot through his temples. He bit his lip as he reached towards a side compartment, popping it open. Darvix sighed inwardly as he patted the black case that held his spice.

***

* * *

**New Republic Military Medical Outpost 4077**

Darvix wiped the sweat from his brow as stowed his flightsuit in the underbelly of his X-Wing. Brushes with the Imperial Remant were never Darvix's favorite thing in the Galaxy. Thankfully, that event was behind him now. All that was left was to find the bar onboard this station and nurse a nice, cold mug of Corellian brandy. As Darvix walked away from his X-Wing, he spotted Kasari off by her starfighter talking with one of the Rogue pilots.

"It's good to see Luke's been letting you get some experience outside of the Academy," Corran said.

"Well, it took some arm-twisting initially for Master Skywalker to allow me to leave the Academy," Kasari admitted. "Had it not been for Master Zorvan, I'd still be stuck on Yavin IV."

"Your ability to put up with him is remarkable," Corran muttered. "I'm surprised you accepted his offer, given his past history."

"Past history?"

"Of course," Corran shrugged. "Most of the Masters and Knights knew about-"

"Mr. Horn, I would appreciate it if you would stop coddling my subordinate," Darvix interrupted flatly. "She gets enough of that from the Academy. Unless you're going to teach me whatever Jedi mindtrick you used to get into Mirax's pants, I would suggest you leave and attend your debriefing."

An awkward silence fell over the three Jedi. Corran turned on his heels, walking away from Kasari's X-Wing. Darvix's icy gaze followed him until he disappeared from the hanger. The moment the door closed behind Corran, Darvix turned to Kasari, a fiery expression written all over his face.

"Just what in Vader's bones did you think you were doing out there?" Darvix demanded. "Where the kriff do you get the idea that it's a good idea to surrender in that situation?"

"We were outnumbered!" Kasari's eyes opened wide as Darvix verbal onslaught began. "Unlike you, I know when I'm in a bad situation."

"They could care less about a couple of snubfighters and a meaningless transport freighter!" Darvix was inches away from her face. "The first thing they would have done was eliminate the fighter support, us! They don't take hostages. No one in a firefight takes hostages! It's shoot to kill, Lisae!"

"Well rushing headfirst into combat isn't going to help anyone!"

"It wasn't rushing headfirst, Lisae," Darvix replied. "I knew what kind of a situation we were in. That Interdictor had every hyperspace route blocked. Those Interceptors were moving in to destroy both you and me. Those Bombers were deployed to take out the Gallows. All that would have been left would have been an undefended Pulsar Skate, and soon after, a very dead Mirax."

"The Rogues arrived, everything worked out," Kasari shrugged, seeming to shed off Darvix's attacks. "You should be happy. You got your adrenaline fix for the day, probably got your spice fix too."

"Lisae, if they hadn't shown up, or even been a few minutes later, everything would have been different," Darvix said. "If they had been late, and we had hung back, that Interceptor wing would have vaped both of us. That's why I told you to engage the enemy! At the time, it was the only chance we had to save ourselves, Kelrune, Horn, and the medical supplies she had liberated on her ship! I needed you to help me get one clear shot at that cruiser.

"The Force isn't the end-all, Lisae," Darvix continued. "Just because you've got a connection to some wondrous magic that gives you super-human abilities doesn't mean that you're invincible. Had the Rogues not shown up when they did, your plan to simply hang back and wait for the inevitable would have resulted in your death, I guarantee it. You would single handedly be responsible for your death, my death, Kelrune's death, and Mirax's death, not to mention every wounded soldier on this outpost that desperately needed these medical supplies. How does that feel, Lisae? Knowing that all of that blood would be on your hands."

Kasari was silent. She wasn't sure whether to cry or to slap Darvix for dressing her down like this. She refused to admit he was right. He was reckless out there, as reckless as he had ever been. Her plan offered them time to think, time to plan. He rushed right into action. He would have been killed. Putting all of that responsibility onto her shoulders simply wasn't fair.

"Just because you're a Jedi doesn't make every decision you choose correct by default," Darvix said. "Out there I wasn't talking to you as a Jedi Master, I was talking to you as a trained military specialist. In that situation, I knew details that you simply did not. You have to trust me in that kind of a spot. You will not always have the answers, Lisae. You will have to defer to others to make judgment calls that are way out of your scope.

"Your choices today were flat out irresponsible and ego-centric," Darvix pointed at her to emphasize his point. "Rule three of the Galaxy, Lisae: inactivity is the greatest crime of them all."

This time it was Kasari's turn to shoot an icy glare at Darvix as he left the hanger. He wasn't right this time, he couldn't possibly be right. Rushing into something without carefully looking at all the details wasn't something any Jedi, let alone a Jedi Master, should do. She had done the right thing.

"Kasari," Vik had appeared seemingly from nowhere, "I think you had better look at this."

***

* * *

"Take a look at this," Vik said, pointing to a screen in the shuttle. "This is the long and short range sensor data taken from the skirmish at Taris."

The screen before them displayed a starchart with four ships in the image, two X-Wings, the Puslar Skate, and the Tatooine Gallows, "This is just prior to the Remnant Interdictor dropping out from hyperspace.

A large ship readout appeared on the screen, the Imperial cruiser. Shortly after, smaller images of TIE-class starfighters began dotting the image, moving towards them at an alarming pace.

"Now, this is when Darvix ordered you into combat," Vik said. "You chose instead to remain with the freighters. For the sake of this simulation, I've delayed the arrival of Rogue Squadron by five minutes…care to see what would have happened?"

Kasari shot Vik an unamused glare. Vik entered a few commands into the computer, advancing the simulation further. Darvix's X-Wing broke off from the other three ships, moving towards the Interdictor.

"Assuming that his skills weren't too rusty, we'll say he made it past the first Interceptor wing with his shields taking about fifty percent damage. Had he had a wingman, he could have forced his way through with minimal damage…Now, as we continue the simulation, notice the TIE Bomber wing moving towards the freighters-" Vik pointed to an area containing about six blips as he paused the simulation "-from here, he could have had you split off to engage the Bombers while he went after the cruiser. There's only a small window of opportunity, but you could have distracted that wing of TIEs before the Interceptors could catch up with you.

"Right now, he's about two klicks away from getting a solid dry-fire lock on the hanger of the Interdictor," Vik continued. "You, conceivably, could have broken up the Bomber formation in this time. Darvix could get a few well-placed torpedoes off and done a lot of damage to that Interdictor, perhaps enough to punch a slight hole in the gravity well generators we could escape to…The odds were slim, yes, perhaps a two percent chance of pulling this stunt off, but let's see what happens as a result of your decision to stay with the freighters."

Vik unpaused the simulation. As Darvix's X-Wing moved towards the cruiser, Kasari noticed that its vital statistics were dropping. Moments later, it disappeared from the screen, destroyed by the turbolaser fire of the Interdictor Star Destroyer. Kasari's own X-Wing finally broke off from a holding pattern to engage the oncoming TIE Bombers, but the Imperial starfighters already had their own wave of proton torpedoes off. Not less than twenty seconds later, the Tatooine Gallows disappeared from the screen. A wing of Interceptors moved in towards Kasari's X-Wing, quickly eliminating it from the simulation.

"This was what would have happened if Rogue Squadron showed up late in ideal conditions," Vik explained. "This computer assumes that both you and Darvix are ace pilots and that these TIEs were being piloted by drunken Ewoks. Chance of success was so minute it might as well be zero percent. I hate to tell you this, Kasari…but Dap was right, you should have listened to him."

Kasari could only shake her head, feeling numb from head to toe, "He got lucky, that's all."

"Darvix never believed in luck," Vik shrugged. "Piloting was a game of numbers to him. Everything was a calculated risk, and the risk he ordered you to take provided the best chance of survival for everyone involved… I guess now you know why we called him the human datapad, and why it occasionally pays to have faith in him."

Vik patted Kasari on the shoulder as he exited the shuttle. Kasari stared at the screen for a moment before rewinding it and playing through the simulation again. She frowned as the events unfolded before her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, as wrong as it was to concede defeat, Kasari accepted what was clearly evident.

"Damn it all," Kasari swore, pounding her fist into the console. "The son of a bitch was right."

***

* * *

Darvix nursed an ice-cold mug of Corellian brandy as he read over the latest newsfeed on his datapad. Gone for almost three weeks, and the Tatooine Sandcrawlers had managed to overtake the Manaan Riptides in the standings. Just what was the galaxy coming to? Darvix could only shake his head. He had fifty credits on Manaan taking the pennant. Taking another swig from his brandy, Darvix turned his head to the side as the door to the 4077th's bar opened. One by one, the Rogues began filing in. Some faces were familiar, men and women Darvix had served with only a few short years earlier. Some faces were new to him. Some had taken the place of pilots that had moved on, some to replace the dead. One pilot was there as the replacement for that "Rogue that went off the deep-end three years ago."

"Ladies and gentlebeings, may I have your attention," Wes Janson climbed atop the bar. Darvix could only cover his eyes.

"For those of you who haven't had the misfortune of meeting him, I would like to introduce you to the one man in the universe crazier than all of us put together," Wes gestured towards Darvix. "Mr. Darvix Zorvan, Jedi Master."

"You forgot consummate lady's man," Darvix quipped as he swallowed a gulp of his brandy.

"Ah, but my padawan, you still have much to learn before that title is bestowed upon you," Wes replied.

"Yes, Master."

"And now, let us raise a toast and drink to Dap," Wes raised a mug of brandy into the air, "The most insane man this side of the Galaxy."

A few hearty cheers filled the room as the Rogues found their seats. Quickly, they began conversing amongst each other, regaling their wingmen with tales of death-defying exploits at the hands of the Imperial Remnant. Darvix had once taken part in these post-battle rituals, but it felt as if it were eons ago. Memories of his career as a pilot came flooding back. He would be sitting at a table or at the bar of the pilot's lounge on board the Mon Remonda, clad in civilian dress, thankful to finally be out of that stuffy orange flightsuit. Around him were some of his closer wingmen. Perhaps he would go as far as calling them friends. Across from him would have been Gavin, one of the younger Rogues, only a few years older than he. On the sides of the table were Inyri Forge and Wes Janson. Wes would utter one of his crude jokes, and Inyri would immediately throw a blunt object at him.

Directly next to him was perhaps the one Rogue Darvix was closest to. Their chairs would be touching, and she'd be leaning into his body. His left arm would be wrapped around her shoulder, drawing her nearer to him. Yes, she had the tendancy to be gruff, but after skirmishes she tended to let her guard down a bit, allowing herself to relax. It was these times she appeared most effeminate, most compassionate. Darvix had loved to see that side of her, a side that she didn't display often. Then again, Darvix had loved everything that Cheriss had to offer.

Darvix swallowed a large gulp of his brandy, his fist clenching under the bar. He didn't call upon the Force to calm himself. He never did when thinking about Cheriss. Instead, he called upon his guile and cold resolve, suppressing her memory deep into his mind once more. Darvix had sworn to himself that her memory wouldn't get in his way again. Since the day he had left Rogue Squadron, he had kept true to that promise. Cheriss was nothing more than a memory, a fragment of his past to be buried under the stress and importance of the present.

"You know, Zorvan," Wedge Antilles took a seat next to him, "if you ever get tired of the whole Jedi bit, my offer is still open to you. I'd love to have you back in our ranks. Force knows we could use a capable slicer and wing-commander."

"One day, perhaps," Darvix replied with a faint smile. "I think I'll let your pilots recover from my last stint with the Rogues before considering a career revival."

"Well, the offer remains on the table if you ever decide to cash in on it," Wedge rapped his knuckles on the bar, ordering a drink from the servant droid. "You could be commanding this group if you get more experience under your belt. Cerebral pilots like yourself tend to make decent commanding officers."

"General, are you mad?" Darvix turned towards Wedge, grinning. "Me in charge of Rogue Squadron? I wouldn't wish that kind of torture on my worst enemy."

"I'd rather have you in charge ten or fifteen years down the line than a Skywalker offspring that will one day grace our galaxy," Wedge said. "Even worse, what if I have to put one of those Solo brats in charge in the future? I'm afraid you're going to have to come back to active service, I just can't let that happen."

Darvix and Wedge shared a hearty laugh. Force help the Galaxy if a potential Skywalker spawn or a Solo child ever gained command of the most storied snubfighter squadron in Galactic history.

"Zorvan, if you ever want your old callsign back," Wedge took his mug of brandy from the droid, "you let me know. You've got your head on straight these days. Anyone who can put up with Luke's training regiments has to be doing well in the Galaxy."

"Or that person is flat-out crazy."

"Well, that's in the Rogue job-requirements, anyways."

The pilots bantered into the early hours of morning. Darvix sat down with Hobbie and discussed the latest in Bacta technology. Shockingly, Hobbie was seriously considering taking a role as a Bacta sponsor. Perhaps one of the longest-standing jokes in Rogue Squadron history would become reality. Darvix had shared a few stories with Gavin Darklighter and Inyri Forge, two of his closer friends during his time as a Rogue. Gavin was in the process of adopting a child with his wife, and Inyri and Wes had finally set a wedding date (much to Darvix's surprise, those two had been putting that off for ages). Slowly, the Rogues began filtering out of the bar, leaving Darvix alone to his thoughts.

At least, he wished he was alone to his thoughts.

"Gifted apprentice you have there, Zorvan," Corran Horn sat down next to him.

Darvix sighed mentally, "I'll say. Have you seen that rack? I'd like to get my-"

"I see the Galaxy is still one massive joke to you," Corran said as he stared forward.

"And I see you're still the New Republic's biggest ego-centric ass," Darvix replied. "Oops, I thought we were having a state-the-obvious contest. I'm competitive by nature."

"I'll never understand just what your problem is," Corran sighed. "You've got everything at your fingertips, yet you're just wasting away your talent."

"Just what my problem is?" Darvix glared at Corran. "Gee, where do I start? Well I suppose being born on an Imperial-controlled backwater planet where I was brainwashed into believing in Human superiority might have something to do with it. Or perhaps it was the virus that ate away it my eyes while I waited for Bacta that was never going to come. Perhaps it could have something to do with the fact that my mother hid the truth about my Jedi heritage. Or maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with my falling to the Dark Side while you just sat on your ass and watched!"

"Don't be pinning this blame on me," Corran replied levelly. "You chose to walk down that path yourself."

"What other path did I have?" Darvix asked. "The only ones you can take are the ones that are visible to you. You're the one who could see the warning signs. I was spiraling out of control, I needed someone to pull me out. Where the hell were you?"

"Some things you just have to learn yourself-"

"Oh, brilliant," Darvix spat out. "Yes, fall to the Dark Side, it's a right of passage after all. Horn, you're so full of bantha poo-doo. No competent master lets their apprentice fall to the Dark Side of the Force without at least throwing them a life preserver. You know what your problem is, Horn? You're incapable of admitting you screwed up. You just can't bring yourself to say that there is an iota of a chance that it's your fault I wound up to be such a mess."

"What, and you think you're perfect?" Corran snapped.

"Perfect?" Darvix grabbed his left sleeve and rolled it up, revealing the countless scars of hypo injections of spice. "You see this? Do you know how many times I've had to shoot up to keep reality from crushing me like a Hutt? Oh yes, I'm perfect. I'm a drug-addict Jedi Master who calls upon the Force like a six-year-old child with stunted mental growth."

"Don't you even begin to put that on me," Corran said, anger tingeing his voice. "You brought misfortune upon yourself."

"You're damn right I did!" Darvix slammed his fist on the bartop. "It was my hands that killed my own mother with my father's lightsaber. It was my own warped thoughts that led me down the path of the Dark Side. You know why that happened to me? The oldest cliché in the book. I grew up knowing nothing else. From the moment I was born I was destined to live like some sort of street urchin. You? You grew up in a family living the holo-sitcom life. You assumed that everyone naturally gravitated towards that lifestyle. Well, you know what Horn, you were wrong! I naturally gravitate towards evil. I needed help to break that cycle, but you just watched from a distance."

"You know what disappoints me the most, Zorvan?" Corran cast a sideways glance at Darvix. "The fact that I thought you could take care of yourself. I hoped I wouldn't have to hold your hand. I just hope one day you live up to a fraction of your potential."

As soon as Corran spit out those words, Darvix pounced, pinning him to the floor. His right fist landed on Corran's jaw.

"Never!" Darvix landed another blow across Corran's skull.

"Talk!" This time Darvix's left fist contacted his former mentor's head

"About!" Another blow to Corran's jaw

"Potential!" Darvix's right fist bore down into Corran's stomach. By this point, the Rogue Pilot was bloodied and bruised. As Darvix moved to land another strong blow, he felt the wind knocked out of him. Corran's fist landed squarely against his jaw, and before Darvix could respond, Horn had called upon the Force. He could feel a rib or two fracturing as Corran employed an ancient Jedi defense trick, the Force Push. Without so much as laying a finger on him, Corran urged the Force to blow Darvix into the far wall of the bar. Darvix fell to his knees, gasping for breath as his hand brushed off some of the blood dripping down his chin. Standing, Darvix walked towards Corran, bringing his fist up once more.

Darvix wanted to punch Corran again. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to pound him into next week, but his hand began shaking. Pain shot through his temples. He was suffering from spice withdrawal. Darvix's vision blurred slightly, causing him to grit his teeth in frustration.

"I do have to thank you," Darvix said through clenched teeth. "You taught me one very, very important thing. You can't rely on anyone in the Galaxy but yourself. Get the hell out of my sight, Jedi Knight Horn.

"As you wish, Master Zorvan," Corran replied calmly.

Corran left the bar, leaving Darvix alone in the now silent room. His hands continued to shake as the withdrawal worsened. He needed to calm his senses and alleviate his anger. Reaching unsteadily into his coat pocket, he retrieved a filled hypo. Today, he would need a much larger dose of spice than normal. Darvix had all he needed now: his thoughts and his spice. Hell to Horn. Hell to the rest of the Galaxy.

End Year Two


	16. Stomping Grounds

Year Three  
Chapter Fourteen – Stomping Grounds

Darvix gazed at the students sitting on the floor before him. Kyle Katarn was a dead man as far as he was concerned. Taking charge of a saber class that Kyle should have been teaching was the last thing Darvix wanted to do. He had stacks of datapads on his desk waiting to be analyzed, yet, here he was, mentoring a horde of over-coddled, nauseatingly-optimistic students. There were countless episodes of Galactic Hospital he had recorded and were sitting for him. Not to mention all that spice that was going to waste. Oh, the torments he had planned for Katarn. Already, he was storing condiments, ready to pack them into a-

"Master Zorvan," one of the young students interrupted his train of thought. "Class began fifteen minutes ago."

Darvix frowned as he glanced behind him, extending his arm outward. Calling upon the Force, he reached out towards a vibrosword resting on the table behind him. Almost effortlessly, it seemed, the sword flew towards his outstretched hand. As he tightened his grip around the hilt, he turned back towards the students.

"The lightsaber is the weapon of the Jedi, a tool of defense and peace, not aggression," Darvix said in a somewhat monotonous tone. "Unfortunately for you sniveling wastes of precious oxygen, you aren't practicing with lightsabers. You're here to perfect basic blade technique, and I'm not letting you anywhere near a lightsaber until you prove you're at least somewhat able to hold your own with a vibrosword."

"Master Katarn has been letting us practice with lightsabers and drones," a Rodian girl objected.

"Master Katarn isn't here today, and as such, you're stuck with me," Darvix motioned towards a case of vibroswords, "Since you're so eager to put me in my place, you're first."

The Rodian glanced around nervously for a few moments before standing up and grabbing her weapon. Darvix stepped on to the mat, his own blade hanging loosely from his hand. The young Jedi Padawan could only stare at him dumbfounded.

"Have none of you ever practiced sparring with a partner?" Darvix asked. The silence from the group only confirmed his assumption. "Very well, get into your opening stance."

The student hesitantly held her weapon at ready, angled slightly away from a vertical position. Darvix brought up his own vibrosword, wrapping his left hand around the grip and mimicking her stance. He wasn't very well-practiced in this particular blade form, the Shii-Cho. Though today it was known simply as the "Medium" form, it dated back thousands of years. It was basic, making it the form that was taught to all students.

"In this form, simplicity is your strength," Darvix said as he dropped his right foot behind him. "The great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi used this form exclusively. If it was good enough for him, it's more than enough for you."

The girl seemed to be gaining some confidence as she stared Darvix down. The moment he gave the commence order, the Rodian lunged forward. Immediately, a grin formed on Darvix's face. Instead of driving off her dominant leg, she strode forward. Already, she didn't have enough momentum in her attack. At the last moment, Darvix's left foot dropped behind his right. He lowered the hilt to hip-level, allowing the blade to cross his body diagonally. The instant their blades made contact, Darvix lurched forward, throwing the young student off-balance. With a flick of his wrists, he forced the blade out of the student's hands.

"Drive on your first movement, don't stride," Darvix addressed the class as the Rodian stumbled backwards. "This form isn't particularly powerful, so it has to rely on speed more than anything else. The power you get is from momentum, and that momentum is going to come from your legs. Moral of the story? Footwork is everything. You can flail your hands around all you want, but if you're not deriving power from your feet and legs, you've got nothing.

"As for you," Darvix cast a sideways glance at the Rodian, "I finally get why you're always standing alone in the corner by the punch table during those Force-awful youth dances Skywalker insists on having to boost morale. You'd be stepping all over your dance partner with that terrible footwork. Which one of you filthy hutt-spawn is next?"

"I think I'll take you up on that," an all too familiar voice said.

Darvix frowned inwardly as he glanced to the rear of the training hall, "Miss Lisae, what an unexpected, uncalled for, intrusive, and otherwise annoying surprise."

"Shall we dispense with the pleasantries and get to the sparring, Master Zorvan?" Kasari strode towards the weapon cabinet, selecting her vibrosword.

"Quick and to the point," Darvix noted. "I think I'm finally beginning to rub off on you."

Kasari took a few practice swings with her weapon, quickly getting a feel for the intricate nuances of that particular blade, "I wouldn't go that far. I tend to stay sober for most of the day."

"Pay attention class," Darvix said as he flexed his right hand around the hilt of his own vibrosword. "Notice that Miss Lisae is setting up her feet correctly: dominant foot dropped behind the body."

Darvix entered into his own combat-ready stance, "Her hilt is even with her waist, but try not to stare there too long. Trust me, bad idea."

A few nervous chuckles arose from the students. Kasari glared at Darvix as he continued his pseudo-lecture, "Blade is crossing the body diagonally… I wouldn't stare too long there, either. Now, Lisae, a few rules of engagement. This is strictly a sparring match, no Force powers involved. This is important, boys and girls. Build up your sparring chops first, then supplement it with the Force."

"I won't call on the Force if you promise not to cheat," Kasari said as she tightened her grip on the vibrosword.

"Class, let me warn you I don't spar in traditional Jedi form," Darvix said. "If I ever catch any of you trying to emulate my methods, I will personally supervise as you run laps around the Academy. Do what I'm doing wrong, and you're liable to loose a finger or two…or perhaps a hand….and possibly an arm. There is an outside chance you might end up dead. Anyhow, ready, Lisae?"

"I thought you'd never shut up," Kasari replied with a half-grin.

Kasari lunged forward, exploding from her starting stance in one quick, fluid motion. Darvix watched as she barreled towards him, not giving up any ground. As she neared him, Kasari brought her blade up to strike. At that moment, Darvix dropped into a low crouch, leveling his blade perpendicular to his body. Darvix tightened his grip on the handle of the vibrosword just as Kasari struck it. At that moment of contact, Darvix lurched into motion, sending all of his energy upward and into Kasari's attack. Knocked off-balance, she briefly lost sight of Darvix as he spun away from her.

Quickly, Kasari regained her bearings, jumping backwards to distance herself from Darvix. Now the Jedi Master was holding his blade in one hand, the tip pointing away from his body and towards the ground. This time, he initiated the attack, sprinting towards her. Kasari brought up her blade into a defensive stance, readying for the blow that was sure to come. Darvix made a movement to her right, causing her to lean that direction to deflect the attack. At that same moment, she realized her mistake. Darvix only feigned motion to the right, but now he was shifting his momentum to the other direction, his blade coming to swipe at her. All Kasari could do was flail her vibrosword to fend off the attack.

Her blade deflected his, but she was off-balance again. Kasari ducked under another swing from Darvix and rolled away from him. She couldn't believe how fast he was moving. It was as if he was sparring three-steps in advance, firing off movement changes and offensive parries in quick succession. His attacks weren't especially powerful. If Kasari could get her blade down in time, it was easy to deflect them. She was, however, getting worn down. Darvix kept his blade in one hand, allowing him to quickly swipe at her. If he had held the weapon in two hands, his approach would be more suited towards a power-stance. Something told Kasari power wasn't Darvix's strong-suit, anyways.

Another swipe, and another near-miss deflection. Kasari spotted Darvix out of the corner of her eye and lunged after him, but with her balance off-center, she lost her footing. That was the only opening Darvix needed. Before Kasari knew what happened, the tip of his blade was placed right at her throat. Kasari dropped her weapon.

"Very good, Lisae," Darvix said as he lowered his vibrosword. "You lost, but still, very good. Normally I don't get a workout like that unless I'm sparring with Katarn or Skywalker."

Kasari dropped her vibrosword, wiping the sweat from her brow as she continued listening to Darvix.

"Now, what you saw here is a matchup between two distinct styles of sparring," Darvix said as he faced the class once again. "From Miss Lisae you saw the classic power-form. Not an extraordinarily finesse way to fight, but extraordinarily effective when you're fending off a number of enemy combatants in close combat. What I demonstrated is much more of a speed-based approach. Fast, quick, and precise. Screw what I did up, and you're Bantha fodder. If I had missed even one of my attacks on Miss Lisae, she could have easily put me in my place with one blow."

Darvix glanced at his wrist chronometer, "Will you look at that, we're out of time. If you'll excuse me, I've got more pressing matters to attend to, such as trying to stomach down some of the cafeteria food."

Darvix began walking out of the training hall with Kasari in tow, "Oh, gentlemen," Darvix glanced at the Rodian he had bested earlier, "If I were you, I wouldn't dance with durasteel-for-feet anytime soon."

***

* * *

Several hours later, Darvix and Kasari were sitting in Luke Skywalker's chambers. Once again, Skywalker was making them wait. In all the meetings he had been forced to suffer through, Darvix had never known Luke for being on time. Apparently a prerequisite for being the grand Jedi-Master of the Known Universe was being twenty minutes late for everything. Now, normally this was a moderate annoyance, but today it was a severe headache.

"I could have beaten you if you had let me use the Force," Kasari said flatly.

"I'll let you hang on to that little daydream," Darvix said as he leaned back in his chair. "You've earned it. Actually, if you'd like to take a deeper excursion into fantasy land, I'll give you a vial of my spice. Force knows you need a vacation… or at least a pseudo-vacation."

"I'll pass, thank you," Kasari replied, trying to tune Darvix out.

"Or perhaps you'd just like to play suckface for a while," Darvix mused. "That seemed to get your gears turning on Telos."

Kasari remained silent, but there was no hiding the crimson her face was turning. Before Darvix could continue his verbal assault on Kasari's ego, the doors to the chamber opened, and Luke Skywalker stepped through.

"Sorry I'm late," Luke said as he took his own seat, "Han and Leia wanted to know if I was going to visit Coruscant anytime soon."

"Conversation with family?" Darvix asked. "Isn't that a little beneath the savior of the galaxy?"

"Dap," Luke said, "shut up."

Kasari glanced at Luke. She had never seen him act so…curt with someone before. What really caught her by surprise was that Skywalker had addressed Darvix by his nickname. She had only seen a few other people call him by that name. She had heard Master Katarn call him that before, the one time she had met General Wedge Antilles and a few of the other Rogues, they had spoken to him with his nickname. Despite Darvix's seeming distaste of Skywalker, he had let the Jedi Master into the tiny circle of friends (or perhaps tolerable acquaintances was the better term) he had.

"What do we owe the displeasure of this meeting to, Skywalker?" Darvix asked, resting his chin in his hand.

"I'm just checking on how your research is coming," Luke replied.

"Oh, fine," Darvix shrugged. "It would be great, if I didn't have to teach all of your pointless classes."

"You're a Jedi Master," Luke noted. "Teaching is part of the job description. Stop whining and do your job."

"When did you become Lord Buzzkill?" Darvix asked.

"About the same time I became CO of Rogue Squadron."

It took everything Kasari had not to laugh at Darvix's expense. Seeing this witty side of Master Skywalker was unexpected, yet rather refreshing. He was human, just like they were.

"Have you determined where you're going next?" Skywalker asked.

Darvix sombered, "I think so. I've got the field narrowed down to a couple of choices, but one pops out."

"What's that?" Luke asked as he crossed his right leg over his left.

"I've got a lot of leads pointing towards Tatooine," Darvix explained. "There's a few spots I have mapped out that I'd like to check."

"Tatooine, hm?" Luke looked towards the ceiling as if deep in thought. "Sounds like a fine idea. Get your supplies ready, we'll leave first thing in the morning."

An awkward silence fell over the room that Darvix broke a few moments later, "Excuse me? We?"

"Right, as in Kasari, your navigator, yourself, and myself," Luke replied.

"You know, Skywalker, you're horrible at telling jokes," Darvix stated. "Remember that one about General Antilles trying to cook Tauntaun on Hoth?"

"That wasn't a joke, he really did try that," Luke said with a straight face. "Half my men were admitted to the medical staff with digestive issues shortly after."

"Oh," Darvix said, still staring at Luke. "And you're not joking this time, either… are you?"

"No, I'm quite serious," Luke replied with a smile. "But, if you want to hear a joke, have I told you the one about the Stormtrooper, Borsk Fey'lya, and a wookie trapped in a repulsorlift?"

***

* * *

"You tried to best him in a blade duel?" Vik glanced over his shoulder at Kasari. "You're crazier than I thought."

Kasari looked away from her command console, "I could have beaten him."

"No, you couldn't have," Vik replied as he looked through the forward viewport onboard the bridge of the Tatooine Gallows. "Jedi or not, taking on Zorvan while he has a vibrosword in his hands is a death sentence. When he was at the Starfighter Academy, he cross trained extensively with bladed weapons because he was such a terrible shot with a blaster. You only agree to spar with him if you've got your mind set on getting a thorough ass-kicking."

"You know, you're always quick to defend him," Kasari changed the subject, spinning around her chair to face him.

"You're always quick to try and get in bed with him," Vik responded without missing a beat. "Your point?"

"Don't change the subject," Kasari chided as she worked on hiding a blush. "Your friendship with him is perhaps one of the most convoluted and confusing of any friendship I've ever seen. You're, for the most part, ethical and responsible while he's…"

"Unethical and irresponsible with the maturity of an eight year old to boot?" Vik finished Kasari's thought. "You're right, it's a match made in hell."

"Just how did the two of you become friends in the first place?"

Vik looked over at Kasari. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do right now. They'd be locked into hyperspace for hours more, and the hologames he was secretly playing on his terminal were starting to get old. Chances are Skywalker was down in his room meditating, and Zorvan was in his room shooting up on spice again. That left Kasari as the only one he could have a conversation with.

"Well, it was about five or six years ago…"

***

* * *

_Six years earlier__  
__Coruscant – New Republic Starfighter Academy base_

Vik Kelrune rubbed his eyes as he glanced at the chart before him. When would he ever have to plot a course that took him from Manaan, through Kessel, through the Maw, and back to Coruscant? Why would anyone be anywhere near the Maw? If Major Klivian thought any typical student at the Academy could successfully plot these astrogation figures, he was mad. Anyone who wanted to even try this hair-brained stunt was crazy. Then again, this was Major Klivian, a former Wedge Antilles lackey. Crazy was in the job profile.

Out of the blue, the lights to his dark quarters were suddenly turned on, causing Vik to groan out in pain, "Sithspit my eyes!"

"Oops, didn't see you in here," the all-too-familiar voice of Major Janson said.

"Yes you did!"

"True," the major replied. "You should get outside more. Some light would be good for your complexion."

"With all due respect, Major," Vik continued to rub the pain out of his eyes, "what the kriff are you doing here?"

"Just a wee little assignment for you," Janson said as he motioned for Vik to follow him.

"I'm a little busy, you know," Vik complained as he walked with Major Janson into the hallway. "Apart from Klivian's Astrogation Assignment of Doom, you've got me taking apart a hyperspace motivator. Not to mention I've got a skirmish exam first thing in the morning."

"Well, if you want to pass that exam you'd best continue walking with me," Janson stepped into a repulsorlift. "Your wingman will be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Wingman?" A look of confusion befell Vik's face. "Why are you dragging me out to see Vranton?"

Vik had a two versus two combat simulator exam first thing in the morning, and he was slated to fly alongside LaDrake Vranton, one of the older (and significantly more gifted) students at the academy. It would probably be a relatively simple exam, considering who his wingman was. Vranton would most likely take care of most of the mission parameters himself, while Vik flew the perimeter to make sure nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened.

"Change of plans," Janson said over his shoulder. "Salgar will be flying on Vranton's wing, and you'll be wing commander over a new rookie."

"Rookie!?" This was not what Vik had in mind for tomorrow's exam. "What am I doing commanding a rookie? I've been here for three months!"

"The rosters didn't quite line up right for the new recruit, and you drew the short straw," Janson explained. "It was either that or the new kid would be foisted on me and I'd have to take a simulator run."

"Force forbid you have to do your job and teach," Vik muttered through clenched teeth. "Where's the rookie from?"

"Someone put in a good word and one of our advanced scouts plucked him off a moisture farm on Tatooine," Janson said as he approached a set of doors leading to one of the Academy's hangars.

"Why are they all from a moisture farm on Tatooine?" Vik asked. "Thank the Force there aren't any more Death Stars for these farmboys to gain glory from."

As Vik entered the hangar, he saw a Lambda-class shuttle easing into the gigantic room. The shuttle carefully sat down at its designated landing spot in the hanger, and soon after, the entry ramp on the back of the ship lowered to the duracrete floor below. Vik followed suit as Janson strode towards the shuttle. As the dust kicked up by the shuttle settled, a figure began descending the ramp. Vik could tell the young man had a typical pilot build, somewhat thin and somewhat shorter than average height. He looked to be about the same age as Vik, nineteen or twenty standard years. His black hair was a mess, no doubt from the long flight from Tatooine.

What caught Vik's attention were the rookie's eyes. Filling each socket completely was a deep, electronic blue. Vik recognized them immediately as prosthetic implants. The rookie snapped a (Vik thought) half-baked salute towards Major Janson.

"This is Vik Kelrune," Janson gestured towards Vik. "Got here about three months before you. Get used to him, he'll be your wingman and your roommate."

The rookie offered only a grunt at Janson's explanation.

"And this package of outgoingness," Janson pointed a thumb towards the rookie, "Is Darvix Zorvan."

***

* * *

Vik looked across the table at his new roommate. He was definitely a scrawny kid, but Vik new that was the perfect physique for a starfighter pilot. What Vik couldn't get past were the newcomer's cybernetic eye implants. The deep, electronic blue was unnatural to say the least. At most, they were unnerving. Darvix stared back at Vik almost emotionless. Vik could tell that Darvix was tense. Probably intimidated by his new surroundings. It must be hard to be thrown into an environment such as the Starfighter Academy after living on a relatively backwater world.

"Ever flown a snubfighter before?" Vik asked, trying to break the ice.

"I own an X-Wing," Darvix replied flatly.

Vik blinked and raised a brow, "You own a military-grade starfighter? Zorvan you're either rich or you're full of bantha poodoo."

"I stole it," Darvix said.

Vik was beginning to think that someone had pulled an extraordinary number of favors to get this particular head-case into the Academy. He was all but certain he'd have a new roommate within the next week; Mr. Zorvan was a washout waiting to happen. Unfortunately for Vik, the washout-to-be was his wingman in the simulators tomorrow. If there was ever a time to resign himself to failure, Vik was certain that it was quickly approaching.

"Major Janson forwarded scouting reports on your simulator opponents tomorrow," Vik leaned back in his chair. "I'd read over them. Vranton's one hell of a pilot."

Darvix didn't bother to respond, choosing instead to continue his blank stare at Vik. Having had enough the futile effort to communicate with his new roommate and wingman, Vik stood and retreated into his room to try and sleep. It came quickly to Vik, as it often did, but didn't last for long. At one point during the middle of the night, he awoke from his rest to hear the faint tapping of keys on a terminal. Vik glanced over at his wall chrono and was dismayed to see it was only 0300 hours. Groaning, Vik stood up and left his room to peer into the adjacent room Darvix was assigned.

There, clamoring away at his terminal, was Darvix Zorvan. He was pouring over the scouting reports that had been sent to him earlier. Vik was somewhat surprised. Darvix's nonchalant attitude he had demonstrated earlier had all but convinced Vik that he had no interest in studying up before his first simulator battle. Yet here he was, eyes plastered on the screen before him.

It would be the same place Vik would find him in the morning.

***

* * *

"You stayed up all night reading over that report?" Vik asked as he adjusted the microphone on his helmet. The hatch to the simulator slowly closed, sealing Vik within it.

"You're the one who suggested I study them," Darvix responded.

"I said read them over," Vik objected. "Not obsess over them."

The behavior Darvix had demonstrated bordered on obsessive-compulsive. How many times did he read that report? Vik was beginning to believe he had been paired up with a certified psychopath. He and Darvix were going to be torn to pieces by Vranton and his wingman. The only good that Vik could glean from the debacle that was to come was that he'd be vaporized quickly, and he'd be able to catch breakfast at the mess hall.

"I have a suggestion," Darvix said over the comlink.

"I'm all ears, Zorvan."

"Request you transfer Wing Commander status to me," Darvix said.

Vik wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel thoroughly insulted, "You've got a lot of gall to make that request. Did you forget this is your first simulator run, Greenhorn?"

"Did you forget you have a fifteen percent success rate in simulator runs in which you're the Wing Commander?" Darvix countered.

Vik was silent for a moment. All he could thing about was getting out of the simulator pod and wrapping his hands around Darvix's throat and squeezing. The rookie was driving him mad. Antisocial and an arrogant ass to boot. There was only one way to bring someone like that back to ground-level.

"Alright, fine," Vik said. "You're the Wing Commander. It'll be a pleasure to see you crash and burn."

***

* * *

Vik swore aloud as he threw his flightstick to the left, narrowly missing another barrage of fire from his opponent's X-Wing that was hot on his tail. It was taking everything he had just to stay alive. He hadn't had any time to fire off a single shot at the enemy. Already, his shield capacity was down to thirty percent front and aft. Vik was acutely aware that this would most likely be the worst simulator run on his record.

"You know you're one hell of a wing commander," Vik said into the microphone. "You're getting us both killed and you didn't even have to issue an order."

"I'm waiting for Vranton's wingman to get a lock on me," Darvix replied. "Standby for orders."

Vik couldn't quite believe what he just heard, "You know, just because you're suicidal doesn't mean you have to take me down with you!"

"Continue standby," Darvix ordered.

As Vik adjusted his flight path, klaxon alarms in his cockpit began to wail. Another wave of fire had just caused his shields to collapse. As he glanced to his left, he saw that half of his top-left strike foil was missing. He wouldn't be able to get off any shots now. Firing with a missing cannon would only result in an electrical overload that could fry the rest of his X-Wing's components. At that point, he would truly be a sitting Gizka.

"Zorvan this is some mess you've gotten me into," Vik threw his X-Wing into a hard dive. "My weapons are crippled. You're going to have to take these two yourself."

"Target lock achieved," Darvix said. "Move to the heading I'm transmitting to you now and set your throttle at two-thirds forward thrust."

_Why not?_ Vik asked himself. He quickly adjusted his course and speed, only to see Darvix's X-Wing barreling right at him. Just like Vik, Darvix had an X-Wing on his tail, pouring fire into his rapidly diminishing deflector shields. Of course, their shields wouldn't do much good at this point, considering Vik was on a collision path with his wingman.

"On my mark, snap-roll ninety degrees right and break straight-upward hard," Darvix ordered.

This was absolutely insane. Vik knew that the odds of this stunt working were astronomically small. He had seen it done in hologames, but never in real life.

"Set, Mark!"

Without thinking, Vik threw his X-Wing into a hard snap-roll. At the same moment, Darvix rolled in the opposite direction. Within moments, the bellies of their two X-Wings would face eachother. Vik pulled back hard on his flight stick, veering away from Darvix's X-Wing. The entire stunt, Darvix moved inversely of Vik, meaning that now Darvix was flying away from him. Not a moment later, a bright flash filled his cockpit as the two enemy X-Wings slammed into each other. Vik wasn't quite sure if he believed what had just happened. He and Darvix had just won the simulator skirmish.

All without firing a single shot.

***

* * *

Vik was the first to greet Darvix as he climbed out of the simulator, "Sweet mother of kriff, that was brilliant."

"Simply a matter of getting the timing right," Darvix said with a shrug.

"Timing, velocity, and trajectory were absolutely perfect," Vik marveled. "I didn't know you could do that with a targeting computer."

"You can't," Darvix said flatly.

"Then how…" Vik almost had to laugh. "There's no way you came up with those calculations on the fly. Either you had some help, or you just got damned lucky."

"It wasn't that hard," Darvix replied as he began walking with Vik out of the simulator room. "With us trimmed to two-thirds throttle, they would most likely be chasing us at full throttle in order to close the distance gap. At that speed, if we break precisely at the right moment, they're all but doomed to slam into eachother."

"Damn risky stunt," Vik said. "Most pilots would just trust their gut out there. You're relying entirely on equations and physics to do your job done. You're the human datapad."

Darvix stopped in his tracks and spun to face Vik, brow raised, "I save your ass in that run and that's the best nickname you can come up with? What about Maverick, or The Great One? Women would fall all over that, but The Human Datapad? It's a good thing you're in the military, your utter lack of creative skill would get you slaughtered in civilian work."

"You, my friend, are a complete and utter ass," Vik said with a tight-lipped smile.

"So be it, but you owe this complete and utter ass dinner for saving your Academy simulator record," Darvix replied with a grin.

***

* * *

"For some reason, I was the only real friend he had at the Academy," Vik mused.

"I would say the bigger mystery is the fact you remained friends with him your entire time there," Kasari noted. "And you say I'm a sucker for abuse from Dap. What happened after you left the Academy?"

Vik leaned back into his terminal chair, thinking for a moment, "We stayed in contact for a little while. I became an astrogator for hire, and he graduated at the top of his class and was immediately assigned to Rogue Squadron. That was the last I had heard from him until he picked me up on the Errant Venture."

"So…" Kasari started, but shook her head, "Never mind."

"No, I don't know what he was up to after that," Vik almost read Kasari's mind. "You know everything I do. He was a Rogue, became executive officer of one of Antilles' other squadrons, and sometime in that mix, he was engaged to be married. If you want to know anything else, you'll have to pry it out of him."

Kasari tilted her head slightly, "Why haven't you asked him?"

"He'll tell me when he's ready," Vik said. "He always does."


	17. Old Flames

Chapter Fifteen - Old Flames

Darvix ducked under blaster fire as he clumsily stumbled through the desert sands of Tatooine. Without even looking over his shoulder, he fired his blaster behind his back, hoping that one of his wild shots would hit one of their pursuers. Vik, running beside him, followed suit in firing blindly behind them. Closing the gap slowly, but surely were a group of very angry Tuskan raiders.

"I told you we were treading in their territory!" Vik yelled as he snapped off another series of hurried shots. "You of all people should know that!"

"Can we forget my vices and get back to my virtues!?" Darvix replied.

"Will you both shut up and figure out how to get out of this mess?" Kasari said as she fired a few shots of her own.

Skywalker had broken off from the party a few hours earlier, insisting that he had people he needed to speak to. He had assured them that they would meet up shortly. Meanwhile, Darvix had decided to do some exploring of his own. One thing had led to another, and now they were being chased by Tuskans who clearly wanted them dead.

"Funny what happens when you decide to explore a Tuskan graveyard, huh?" Darvix said between breaths.

"Tuskan graveyard?" Vik was beside himself. "You led us into a Tuskan graveyard? Are you crazy?"

"You already know the answer to that," Darvix snapped off another shot, hitting a Tuskan raider square in the chest. "Look ahead!"

Not far in the distance, Darvix could make out the shape of a homestead. Most likely, it belonged to a moisture farmer. If they could make it there, they would have enough cover to fend off the Tuskan raiders. Of course, if they didn't make it in time, they would be overrun by the raiders, pummeled into oblivion, vivisected, and forced to watch as their own entrails spilled onto the sand below them. Most certainly not a pleasant thought. Darvix liked his innards where they were.

Reaching for his belt, Darvix brandished a spherical, metallic object. Without thinking, he tossed it towards Vik, who effortlessly caught it on the run.

"What is that?" Kasari asked, wheezing for breath.

"Thermal detonator," Darvix replied as he squeezed off a handful of shots from his blaster.

"Why didn't you throw it yourself?"

"Because," Vik armed the thermal detonator and stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around and launching the explosive device, "he throws like a paralyzed Jawa."

The three began running towards the homestead again. Moments later, an explosion detonated behind them, leveling a few more of the Tuskans and allowing them to widen the distance between the two parties. As Darvix neared the homestead, he spotted two objects on the surrounding wall pivoting towards them. Immediately realizing what they were, Darvix grabbled a hold of Vik and Kasari, throwing them to the ground. As he hit the sand himself, he threw his arms over his head for cover. The sound of laser blasts from the wall-mounted auto turrets rang through the air and over their heads.

For a long while, the three of them didn't move. With their faces planted firmly into the sand, they awaited the death that was surely to come. It wasn't until Darvix felt a boot nudging his ribcage that he looked up.

"Honestly, Dap," Skywalker chided as he stared down at the sand-covered Jedi, "can't you come through the front door like everyone else?"

"Front door?" a familiar voice said. "He was always breaking curfew and coming in through his bedroom window."

Darvix sat upright, looking up at the two men. As he glanced behind him, he saw a line of dead Tuskan raiders behind them. The pursuers were gone. Darvix looked forward again. With a jolt (as well as the feeling of impending indigestion), Darvix realized where it was he had stumbled into. As he glanced around his surroundings, he knew there was no mistaking it. He was on the Darklighter moisture farm.

"Get up, son," the man said, extending hand towards Darvix.

Darvix took the hand and stood upright, "Uh..sir, it's good to see you again."

"Sure know how to make an entrance, Darvix," The man laughed and slapped Darvix on the back, knocking him forward slightly.

"Well don't by blaster-shy, son," the man admonished. "Why don't you introduce me to your traveling companions while we walk back. You hungry at all? Silya's working on dinner."

Darvix smiled tightly as he gestured towards Vik, "My astrogations officer, Vik Kelrune, and to his left, my apprentice, Kasari Lisae," Darvix paused for a moment, nodding towards the man, "This is Jula Darklighter."

"Darvix used to live with us when he was younger," Jula explained. "Quite a hellraiser, always getting into trouble. Did marvelous work with the moisture vaporators, though. Darv, you remember the time you hotwired that Assault Gunboat at Mos Eisley and went for a joyride? I thought we'd never get you out of the detention facility."

Darvix felt sick. Not long earlier, they were running for their lives. Now, his companions were getting a very intimate (and extraordinarily unwanted) look into his younger years. He was starting to wish he had let the Tuskan Raiders slice him in half. Chances are it wouldn't have been nearly as excruciating as this torment.

As they walked into the homestead, Jula continued regaling Vik, Kasari, and Luke with stories of Darvix's sordid past. There was the incident where he had accidentally reprogrammed a protocol droid to swear at its owner. Of course, who could forget the time when he had gotten caught streaking through the Anchorhead starport. Jula was never going to let him live that particular incident down.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darvix saw someone approach them. He turned his head to spot a rather slender young woman walking towards them. She was approximately Darvix's own age (as well as approximately his own height). Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Darvix had never gazed upon this woman with his organic eyes before, but he knew exactly who it was.

"I thought you'd never come back home, flyboy," the woman said with a half-smile.

"Ah, you're here," Jula noted. "This is my daughter-"

Darvix interrupted the elder Darklighter, stepping towards the woman, "Anya…"

"Should I take that as an 'I missed you?'" Anya Darklighter asked, smiling towards Darvix once more.

***

* * *

Darvix had commandeered a spare room within the Darklighter homestead to use as a base of operations. Pinned to the walls were sheets of flimsy with hastily scrawled notes. A makeshift conference table in the center of the room was covered in the mounds of datapads Darvix hauled with him on expeditions. Darvix stood against a wall, staring through a window opposite of him. Somewhere on this desert wasteland was a vital clue that would lead him towards Darth Revan's final whereabouts. More importantly, it might lead him towards information about one Atton Rand.

Darvix theorized that dark-side tendencies ran along bloodlines. Simply, certain traits passed from offspring to offspring allowed the Dark Side greater influence over some than others. Darvix suspected that his connection to Atton Rand was the cause of his own fall towards the Dark Side of the Force. From all accounts, Rand was a fallen Jedi of the post Madalorian War era. Common Jedi Lore stated he had been corrupted by the Exile, one of Darth Revan's foremost pupils. All Darvix needed was more concrete proof.

The door to the room slid open and Darvix glanced towards it. Skywalker and Vik entered, but Kasari was nowhere to be found. The two men assumed their seats at the table carefully as to not topple over a stack of datapads nearby.

"Where's Lisae?" Darvix asked, still looking through the window.

"No idea," Vik said with a shrug. "She vanished shortly after dinner."

"Typical woman," Darvix moved towards the table. "Always there to annoy you, but never there when you need them."

"Shall we postpone this little meeting and go find her?" Vik asked.

"No, on second thought, she'd just get in the way," Darvix mused. "She'd just say something like 'I don't think that's the safest way to do this,' or 'one more sexual advance and I'll ram my lightsaber up your-"

"Is every one of your 'meetings' like this?" Skywalker looked across the table at Vik.

"No, typically they're more vulgar," Vik replied.

"-or 'if you're not careful you're going to be shot by someone you've pissed off."

***

* * *

Kasari sat across the table from Anya Darklighter, nervously tapping her fingers on the hard surface. A steaming mug of caf sat in front of her, untouched. Kasari knew that she was supposed to be in a conference with Darvix and Vik, but she needed to talk with Anya.

"How long have you and Darvix been a pair?" Anya asked, interrupting Kasari's train of thought.

"Huh?" Kasari quickly felt a blush form on her cheeks. "Oh, no it's nothing like that. We just…work together, that's all."

"Must be pretty awkward," Anya mused. "Having to work for a man you want to sack up with that bad. I'm not sure if anyone's ever told you this, but you're a lousy liar. Your body language gives everything away."

Kasari could only stare down at the table top. Was she really that transparent? First Vik, now this relative stranger claiming that they could see right through her. Granted, she had some feelings toward Darvix, but they weren't anything out of the ordinary. At first, she thought she was attracted to him. As time went by, she began to realize she was only enamored with his enigmatic character. That was why she was sitting awkwardly at a table, trying to stomach a mug of second-grade caf.

"What do you want to know about him?" Anya asked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "How he is in bed? Whether or not the rumors of him being hung like a-"

"No!" Kasari objected, blushing furiously once more. "Nothing like that. I just thought you might have a few answers for me."

"Such as?"

Kasari looked straight across at Anya, "Who was he going to marry?"

Anya sobered, her face settling into a slight frown, "If Darvix hasn't told you that himself, it really isn't my place to tell you."

"But you do know, don't you?" Kasari asked.

"Yes, I do," Anya admitted. "Though Darvix isn't aware that I know. My brother sent me a message shortly after Darvix's fiancé died telling us what had happened… I really shouldn't say much more than that, though."

"I see," Kasari said. "Could you tell me one more thing, though?'

"Why did I go out with him?" Anya looked thoughtful for a moment. "The cybernetic eye implants were just to die for, really. That, and who can resist going out with such an arrogant ass?... Though his actual rear end was rather fetching."

Kasari could only blink and stare for a moment, "Vaders' Bones, you were a perfect couple."

"Too perfect, some would argue," Anya noted. "Can you imagine what our children would have turned out like? This entire star system would be flooded with dry wit and sarcasm."

***

* * *

Darvix looked up as the door to the room slid open. Kasari quickly took a seat next to Skywalker and reached for a nearby datapad, a vain attempt to look remorseful for being late, "Already done prying into my past life, Lisae? My goodness, I thought I taught you to ask more questions."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kasari replied flatly.

"Oh come now, you're the most punctual one here," Darvix said. "Skywalker is chronically busy, Kelrune is chronically lost, and I'm-"

"Chronically high?" Vik offered.

"I'm only mildly buzzed right now," Darvix said matter-of-factly. "In any case, Lisae, you're the only one here who ever shows up on time to things. If you're late, it just means you had something more important to do."

Skywalker stifled a chuckle as Kasari shot a glare Darvix, "Can we get on with this?"

"Well we'd be done now had you not barged into this room demanding attention for yourself," Darvix said. "Now where was I? Ah, yes, I believe we were discussing why the Corellia Blue Sox are the Evil Empire in the Shockball league."

"Well with that kind of payroll, they all but buy their championships," Vik stated. "Very detrimental to league competitiveness."

"I agree," Skywalker replied. "I'd say a league-wide salary cap is in order."

Kasari was aghast. Even Skywalker was indulging Zorvan, "Is there any point to this meeting at all?"

"You see why I call her Apprentice Buzzkill now?" Darvix rolled his eyes. "Fine, let's wrap this little meeting up."

Darvix dimmed the lights in the room and pressed a button on a holographic projector at the center of the table. An old image appeared, a hand drawn illustration of what appeared to be a primitive astral projection device. It looked to be a rather large looking contraption. Three legs jutted out from the center, and in the center of the entire device was a holographic projection unit.

"This is the Star Map," Darvix noted. "According to Jedi lore, a handful of these maps existed, each one storing the location to a super weapon Darth Revan used to lay waste to the Old Republic approximately four-thousand years ago. However, all indications are that this weapon was destroyed as Revan's fleet fell. Regardless, I believe if we find one of these maps, we can rediscover a trail that's been hidden for about four millennia."

"You're saying that you think one of these Star Maps is on Tatooine?" Vik asked.

"I know one of these Star Maps is on Tatooine," Darvix said confidently. "Which is why I want the three of you to depart at oh-five-hundred tomorrow morning and examine a few sets of coordinates I've uploaded to your datapads."

"What about you?" Kasari asked. "Won't you be joining us?"

"Now, what sort of a leader would I be if I didn't delegate all the dangerous grunt work to my subordinates while I sat back and enjoyed a nice bottle of Corellian brandy?" Skywalker coughed slightly, interrupting Darvix. "Fine, two subordinates and the grand Pooh-Bah of the Jedi."

Darvix looked at the three of them before motioning for them to leave, "Go on, I'm done with the lot of you for today."

Kasari and Vik quietly left the room, leaving Darvix alone with Skywalker.

"You know exactly where it is, don't you?" Luke asked.

"Of course I know where it is," Darvix said. "I wouldn't have come out to this sand trap if I didn't know the precise location of the Star Map. I only went exploring that Tuskan grave yard because I was bored."

"You take too many risks," Luke responded. "One of these days your sense of adventure is going to blow up in your face, and I just hope you don't take those two down with you."

"All of my risks are calculated," Darvix replied. "I minimize the chance of failure as much as possible."

"No, you maximize your chance of success as much as possible, then jump headfirst without thinking," Luke said. "Even if you have only a one percent chance of success, you'll take that risk, because it's the only one that has a chance of producing results. One of these days you're going to fall head-on with that ninety-nine percent chance of failure, and you're going to get hurt."

"If you're so concerned, why are you letting me send those two out on their own?"

"Because I'm going with them," Luke explained. "This will be a good test for Kasari, but don't get used to me authorizing these kinds of stunts. Kyle and I won't be around to clean up after you anymore."

"I never asked for your help, you know," Darvix said.

"You never asked, but you and I both know you needed it," Luke replied. "You were a mess before we got a hold of you. If we hadn't done anything, you'd be rotting in solitary confinement for your crimes."

Outside the door of the room, Kasari's ear was pressed up against the door. She had stretched out with the Force to listen to their conversation. As she pulled away, she could only feel some sense of shock. Darvix had committed some sort of crime while he was a Rogue? Just what was it he had done? Quickly, Kasari moved down the hall as not to be caught by Darvix. Every time Kasari felt she was beginning to understand the man, she unwrapped another layer of mystery. She was beginning to wonder whether or not she really wanted to know just who Darvix Zorvan was.


	18. Maps

Chapter Sixteen - Maps

The desert heat provided by Tatooine's twin suns was unbearable. Kasari was growing to hate this particular planet more than any other backwater hell-hole she had ever been forced to visit. She could tell Vik was holding up no better under the blistering heat, yet Skywalker seemed to be fine. His comfort in the torturous temperature was almost maddening.

"How can you possibly stand this heat?" Vik asked. "Vader's Bones, you Jedi have it made."

"It's got nothing to do with the Force," Luke replied. "I grew up here. They say the blood of a Tatooine native boils a little hotter than the average man."

"Ah," Vik looked thoughtful for a moment. "That must be what gives you the edge you need to shoot womprats from a T-16."

"That and Tatooine pilots are inherently better than everyone else," Luke responded with a grin.

"I know a number of Corellian pilots who would beg to differ."

Kasari frowned as the two men continued to banter. As she consulted her datapad, she realized that they were nearing the last set of target coordinates Darvix had given them. Covering her eyes from the sun with her hand, Kasari squinted into the distance. Sure enough, not far from where they were stood was a rocky outcrop and the faint outlines of a cave. That must be the location Dap had in mind. Stowing her datapad in her robes, Kasari began to trudge through the sand once again. As they drew closer to the cave, Kasari could feel the Force tugging at the back of her mind. Something wasn't right.

"Master Skywalker-"

"I know," Luke responded quietly. "I feel it too."

The three of them stood before the entrance of the cavern, gazing into its pitch-black depths. For a long while, the three seemed to be frozen in place, completely unwilling to move. Kasari glanced over at Vik, noting that his hand was hovering dangerously close to his holstered blaster.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Vik muttered.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Kasari took a step forward. "Zorvan wouldn't deliberately send us somewhere overly dangerous. Right, Master Skywalker?"

"Of course not…" Kasari was less than comforted by Skywalker's tone of voice.

"I still have a bad feeling about this," Vik glanced around as he removed his blaster from its holster. "I don't care what you-"

Suddenly, a deep rumbling filled the cavern, causing some of the unsettled rock above head to fall towards the ground. Moments later, a horrifying howl filled the air around them. As the three of them looked at eachother, loud thumps began filling the air and shaking the ground around them.

"Oh sithspit," Vik swore.

From the shadows, an outline of an enormous creature emerged. A set of large jaws and a horned, scaly head let out another howl. Instinctively, the three of them began backing away into the daylight, only to be followed by the beast. In the light, they could make out its enormous body, covered in hard scales. Its ten enormous legs shook the ground each time it strode forward.

"What in the name of the Force is that thing!?" Vik demanded as they broke into a run.

"Greater Krayt dragon," Luke said. "Supposedly they're just part of the old Tatooine folklore."

Kasari covered her ears as the creature howled again, "I hate to break it to you, but I think they really do exist!"

"What do we do?" Vik glanced over his shoulder as he continued to run in full sprint.

"If the legends are correct, Krayt dragons will follow you until you either disappear, or it kills you," Luke replied.

"So, either we kill it, or it kills us?" Kasari reached for her belt, withdrawing her lightsaber.

"That about sums it up."

***

* * *

There was no way around it. Darvix was bored out of his mind, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to sit behind his electronic keybed, but it was nestled on board the Tatooine Gallows. If he shot any more spice into his system, he was liable to dive headfirst into a stroke. Although, with the dismal progress Darvix had made toward alleviating his boredom, inducing a stroke via spice was starting to become a rather intriguing option. At the very least, he could enjoy a few hallucinations while he was writing and twitching in agony. The more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to think that it was a good idea. All he had to do was mix up another batch and find a-

"You going to do anything other than stare blankly out the window today?" Anya asked as she sat down next to Darvix.

"Of course I am," Darvix looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I'm also going to close my eyes and imagine you without clothes on."

"You've been doing that for the last six years."

"I'd stop if you actually gave me a visual image to work with," Darvix noted.

"I don't think your feeble libido could handle that," Anya grinned.

"That's sounds like a challenge to me."

"Think of it more as a threat," Anya smiled and leaned back into her seat. "You know, you owe me for ditching me for the Academy."

"You and I both know I had no choice."

"I know you never bothered to take any of your leave days to come back and visit me," Anya pouted. "It took Gavin three months to convince me that it wasn't my fault and you were the one who was a complete ass."

"Only three months?" Darvix feigned shock. "I must have lost my touch."

"No, I think you just lost your nerve to commit."

Darvix shook his head, "How old were we? Seventeen, eighteen?"

"So you're using age now as an excuse for breaking a girl's heart?" Anya raised a brow. "First it was the Academy, and then it was military operations, now age. You never could find it in your to commit either way, could you?"

"That was six years ago," Darvix frowned. "We were mentally incompetent teenagers that were thinking with our genitals instead of our heads. What am I supposed to do about it now?"

"Make it up to me," Anya replied flatly.

Darvix stared at the woman for a moment, "Alright. How do you propose we do that? I mean, your parents are out right now, we could lock the door and-"

"The Moisture Harvest festival is tonight," Anya interrupted, "and I want to dance."

Darvix could almost feel a smile tug at his lips, "I take you dancing and we're even?"

"No, not even," Anya replied, "but I'll let you off the hook for a few years."

Darvix thought for a moment. As little as he wanted to make a fool out of himself on the dance floor, he was still bored out of his mind. Certainly that was enough of an excuse for agreeing to go with Anya. Yes, that would work. This was just to alleviate his excruciating boredom, nothing more. He'd go dancing for his own entertainment. He didn't feel guilty about hurting Anya's feelings all those years ago, so that most certainly was not the reason he would agree to go.

At least, he didn't think he felt guilty.

"Alright, it's a date," Darvix smiled faintly.

Kasari was convinced that she was doomed with eternal bad luck. Skywalker and Kelrune had run ahead of her to lay a trap, leaving the Greater Krayt dragon to chase her. A few hundred meters ahead was a natural rock bridge spanning the top of Beggar's Canyon. Vik and Master Skywalker were preparing a few explosive charges to send the rock plummeting to the ground (and hopefully the dragon) below. Unfortunately, this left Kasari with the unenviable task of leading the behemoth monster towards said trap. Thankfully she was able to call upon the Force to increase her running speed. The Greater Krayt Dragon (although a hulk of a beast) was extremely quick and agile, meaning that without a rather generous boost of speed, Kasari was as good as lunch.

Finally, she spotted the rock bridge in the distance. She only hoped that the explosive charges were set and ready to detonate. Suddenly, Kasari felt her foot catch on the ground, causing her to fall forward. As she glanced behind her, she saw the creature closing in on her at an alarming rate. Without thinking, she pulled her lightsaber off her belt and thumbed it on. A vibrant blue blade appeared from the hilt accompanied by the weapon's distinctive snap and hiss. The Greater Krayt's enormous leg moved towards her, no doubt in an attempt to crush her. At the last possible moment, Kasari slashed across her body, severing one of the animal's large claws. The Greater Krayt stumbled for a moment as it howled out in pain, the window of opportunity Kasari needed.

Kasari jumped to her feet and sprinted under the rock bridge, the Greater Krayt once again chasing her at full speed. Just before she crossed under the bridge, she heard a loud explosion from above her. Without breaking stride, she continued forward as the bridge fell to the canyon floor. Behind her, the beast howled in agony as the masses of rock and boulder crushed it. As enormous as it was, it was no patch for heavy stones and gravity. Kasari finally stopped and collapsed, gasping for breath as she stared at the now-dead Greater Krayt dragon.

"Are you alright?" Vik asked as he stumbled towards her.

"Next time," Kasari muttered between breaths, "I get to set the charges."

"Is it dead?" Vik glanced at the dragon's corpse.

Kasari sighed, "I sure hope so. I don't want to have to hack at it with my lightsaber"

"What do we do now?"

"You and Skywalker are going to go get the speeder," Kasari said, "because I don't feel like walking anymore. While you're at it, I want a bottle of Corellian brandy."

"Skywalker is already going for the speeder."

"He'd better have the brandy too," Kasari said flatly. "That's non-negotiable."

Not long later, the three adventurers had returned to the cavern. Cautiously, they began walking into it. Kasari felt herself on edge. She had already been chased across the desert by one ravenous monster and she most certainly did not want that to happen again. Luckily, it seemed as if the cavern was empty. Their glowrods did painfully little to illuminate the way, the cavern was simply too deep for them to be effective.

"I hate caves," Luke said. "Nothing good ever comes from a cave."

"Oh come on, it's every boy's dream to go exploring a dark and mysterious cave," Vik replied.

"Yes, then adulthood sets in," Luke muttered, "and you realize there's nothing magical in caves. Just falling objects, rancors, and wampas."

"Wampas?" Vik asked.

"Yes, they're…" Luke paused. "You know, let's not talk about them. Every time I think of one I start tasting Bacta in my mouth."

"Would it kill them to create a Bacta flavor other than Taun Taun soup?" Vik asked.

"I secretly believe the Bacta manufacturers enjoy watching people suffer," Luke said. "I'll never understand why Klivian could put up with that stuff so often."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Kasari shook her head and looked forward once more. In the distance, a faint blue glow caught her eye. As she felt her way along the cavern walls, the glow became more pronounced. Finally, as she circled around a fallen border, she spotted it. The Star Map sat near the back wall of the cave, untouched for nearly four-thousand years. A primitive spherical holograph shone brightly, displaying a map of the Galaxy as it was known to be thousands of years ago.

"Amazing," Vik said as he approached it. "All these years and it's still running…Accurate to boot."

"Looks like there's a few planets marked," Luke said. "What are they?"

"That one is Korriban…Over here is Dantooine," Vik noted pointed to another star cluster, "Kashyyyk is here, and over here is Manaan."

"Zorvan is going to wet himself when he gets his hands on this data," Kasari said. "Get this data copied. I'm itching to get all this sand out of my boots."

***

* * *

Darvix tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, frowning to himself. Anya had brought him out to the Anchorhead spaceport for the Moisture Farming Festival, and to add insult to injury, had forced him to wear formal attire. So what if it was the dress code? No one in their right mind enjoyed wearing a suit on Tatooine. The Moisture festival was an annual tradition for those who lived near the Anchorhead spaceport. People young and old would gather to enjoy each other's company and to celebrate another successful season of moisture farming. Couples would dance and children would play. It was enough to make Darvix sick to his stomach. He couldn't deny, however, the enjoyment he got from listening to the Big Synth band that played every year. Granted, it was the music that most of the elderly partygoers listened to in their youth, but it was still his favorite music form. He had hundreds of albums from that genre stored on his terminal on the Gallows.

"Tatooine to Darvix," Anya interrupted Darvix's train of thought. "I didn't drag you here just so we could sit at a table and drink five bottles of Corellian brandy."

"What's wrong with drinking five bottles of Corellian brandy?" Darvix asked.

"Nothing, that's fine in and of itself," Anya said, "but I want to do _more_ than drink five bottles of Corellian brandy."

"Fine, we can also get two bottles of Alderaani white wine," Darvix said. "Or a bottle of Calamari red wine. It all depends on the kind of mood you're in tonight, really… You know I had a great bottle of Calamari red at _Kal's Fine Corellian Restaurant_, ever eaten there? The manager's special is to _die_ for."

Anya grabbed Darvix arm and hauled him to his feet, "I want to dance, and you're going to dance with me flyboy."

"I've always liked women who know what they want," Darvix grinned.

"Damn straight, and right now I want to dance."

Anya led Darvix to the dance floor (which in reality was just an empty dirt clearing with a stage and band at one end). As the band began to play a slow ballad, Darvix took Anya's left hand into his right and drew her close to his body. Six years ago he stood in this same clearing with the same woman, dancing to the same song. It was a month before he joined the Starfighter Academy. In those days, all he worried about were reprogramming the Darklighter's moisture vaporators and staying out of the Anchorhead prison cells. Part of him longed for those simpler days, but he realized just how bored he would be had nothing changed. Anya's elder brother, Gavin (who Darvix had flown with in Rogue Squadron), once said that Darvix wasn't a person who would settle for the life of a moisture farmer. That was part of the reason Jula Darklighter had pulled a series of strings to get him into the Academy.

Anya rested her chin on Darvix shoulder as they continued to dance to the ballad, "It's been three years, Darvix…How are you holding up?"

"Gavin told you, I assume?" Darvix replied.

"Of course he did, we were the only family you had," Anya said in turn. "I don't know how you held yourself together."

"I didn't fare well," Darvix admitted. "Losing her caused me to do a lot of things I wish I hadn't."

No matter how hard he tried, Darvix could never quite push the events of that fateful recon patrol out of his mind. It was the midst of the Phantom Fighter crisis (the only operation he would fully participate in while a member of the New Republic armed forces), and he had met the love of his life. She was a fiery pilot who hailed from Adumar, a world that had recently been inducted into the New Republic. By the time he had joined Rogue Squadron, she had been an active roster pilot for six months. Their personalities immediately clashed, making it impossible to work with each other. Yet, somehow, a bond formed between them.

The two of them connected on a level that, to this very day, Darvix didn't fully understand. It was an emotional link he had never felt before. Perhaps it was foolish, but Darvix felt as if the two of them were meant to be. He proposed to her in the middle of a military campaign, and she accepted. For a short while, Darvix allowed himself to think into the future. What would it be like to be with her every day, to share and consummate that bond? Could he raise a family with her? At that point, Darvix felt as if nothing could bring him back to the stratosphere.

Then reality crashed atop him. On one fateful patrol (that should have been assigned to a lesser squadron), the Rogues were ambushed by the Phantom starfighters, a squadron of cloaked Imperial TIEs that were undetectable by conventional means. His X-Wing was damaged in the ambush, making him an easy target. As one of the enemy starfighters made another pass at him, the woman he had fallen in love with appeared between him and the cloaked starfighter, absorbing the laser fire intended for him. He escaped into hyperspace, but she was claimed by the vacuum of space.

"You shouldn't worry about me," Darvix said. "It's not something you need to concern yourself with."

"I'm not worried," Anya shrugged, "if you need to talk, you will."

The ballad ended, and the band launched into an uptempo big synth tune. Darvix needed to take his mind off of his late fiancé, otherwise he'd be ordering another five bottles of Corellian brandy.

"Remember those steps I showed you?" Darvix asked with a sly grin.

"How could I forget?" Anya replied. "Sweep me off my feet, flyboy."

***

* * *

It was an odd series of events, Darvix would later admit. First he was dancing with the woman who had been his lover in his younger days. Not long after that he was sleeping with her. As he glanced over at the chronometer on her bedstand, he saw that it was already morning. That was somewhat surprising, considering the fact that neither of them slept much that night. As he was about to close his eyes again, he felt Anya stir beside him.

"Morning," Anya muttered. "How you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a landspeeder," Darvix groaned. "You weren't kidding about me not being able to handle your libido."

"Damn right I was."

Darvix's comlink went off. Cursing silently, he picked it off the nightstand and flipped it on.

"Darvix's house of pain, where our pleasure is your pain," Darvix said.

"Shut up," Kasari said flatly. "We've been trying to find you since 1500 yesterday. I don't care where you are, or what you were doing, but the shuttle is prepped and ready to go."

With a sigh, Darvix turned his comlink off. In one quick moment, reality came crashing in around his ears. Within the last twenty four hours he had allowed himself to break away from the rigors and stress of his daily existence to part of something that had absolutely no value in the grand scheme of the Galaxy. He hated to admit it, but he had enjoyed himself. He hadn't had that much fun since he was a Rogue.

Had it really been that long since he last enjoyed himself? Sure, he indulged himself with more than his fair share of spice and had invited a prostitute or two into his quarters, but neither were things he truly enjoyed. Just ways to pass time by. He had done himself a great disservice by breaking away from his normal routine of misery and misanthropy. _That'll teach you to be happy, nerfherder,_ Darvix sourly mused to himself.

"I don't have to go, do I?" Darvix asked.

"As you're so fond of saying, you're not obligated to do anything," Anya noted, drawing the bedsheets over her chest. "Of course this is all a moot point, we both know you're not going to abandon your work just to be with me."

"Then come with me," Darvix said, a hint of desperation suddenly flashing in his voice. "You're no different than me. You're as bored here as I was! There's no reason to"-

"No way in hell, flyboy," Anya interrupted.

For the first time in as long as Darvix could remember, he was speechless. Part of him was hurt to be rejected so soundly. Another part of him was furious. Why turn him down? What was there to loose? Tatooine was a dustbowl that could bore a grown man to tears. What could there possibly be keeping her here?

"I know exactly what will happen if I fall for you again," Anya turned on her side to look at Darvix. "At first things will be grand. The sex will be magnificent, to be sure. As time goes by, though, I turn into every other plaything you've ever had. You'll grow bored with me as I once again take a backseat to your blind ambitions."

"You don't know that," Darvix replied.

"Yes, I do," Anya looked up at the ceiling. "You said it yourself; I'm no different than you. In your position, I'd do the exact same thing. The moment you realize that you can do better than settling on me, we're back to square one. You leave for the Academy, I hate your very existence for the next five years."

"Anya-"

"Why don't we just cut our losses and admit what we both clearly know," Anya said. "You can find someone better than me, and I can find someone far, _far_ better than you."

Darvix wasn't about to argue, she was right, "Why invite me here, then? Not that I'm complaining, anyways…"

"Why not?" Anya shrugged. "It was a rather pleasant diversion."

Darvix could only shake his head and grin slightly, "You're a pretentious bitch, you know."

"And you're a self-righteous bastard," She replied in turn. "Now get out of here. Don't you have a galaxy to save or something?"

"Leave that to the Skywalkers and Solos of the universe," Darvix said as he sat up. "I'm just looking to cure my boredom."

***

* * *

Darvix sat back in his command chair as the molten black and blue of hyperspace soared past the viewscreen. An extra-large dose of spice was required in order for him to relieve the edge from his encounter with Anya Darklighter. She always knew just what to say to destroy his day. Darvix recognized that it was rather ironic that she had just given him the social treatment he administered to everyone within a ten meter radius of him. It was only fair, he had hurt her years ago, and she just got even.

The door behind him slid open, causing Darvix to glance over his shoulder. It was Skywalker, much to Darvix's chagrin.

"Lisae's in her quarters and Vik's in the holo chamber if you need someone to talk to," Darvix said flatly.

"Have you glanced over the data?" Skywalker ignored Darvix's plea for him to leave.

"Briefly," Darvix said. "Looks incomplete. I think if I head to Manaan I'll be able to find the missing data. Should be ready to go within three-"

"You're not going anywhere," Skywalker said. "What you're going to do is return to the Academy and do your job: teach. I'm putting you in charge of the Ethics course."

Darvix stood up, "Excuse me?"

"I've got to pull you away from this assignment," Luke said. "It's consuming you. You sent Kasari and Vik to their deaths just so you could find some information that you _knew_ you could find on three other worlds!"

Darvix grimaced. Skywalker was exactly right. Before embarking to Tatooine, he knew he could find Star Maps on Korriban, Manaan, Kashyyyk, and Dantooine. None of those locations would provide the dangers that finding the Tatooine Star Map had in store for them, they would just require more work to find. More work would translate into more time spent, time which Darvix refused to give up.

"You're always in a hurry, always rushing into things without looking," Skywalker said. "You gave Wedge the exact same problem. I'm sorry Darvix, but until you learn to harness patience, I'm not sending you back out there."

"Skywalker this is insane," Darvix spat. "I'm close! I just need a few more pieces to fall into place!"

"You're going to have to wait," Skywalker said. "You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I'm restricting you from the Jedi Archives and personal travel. If you go somewhere, you take a transport. I know exactly when you're leaving and when you're coming back."

"Damnit, I'm not sixteen!" Darvix snapped.

"Then learn how to act your age!" Luke yelled, a rare outburst of anger and disappointment. "I'm pairing Lisae with Master Katarn. I've found Kelrune work with New Republic intelligence."

Darvix was furious. After all he had discovered, it would all come to a sudden stop.

"How long am I on probation for, Judge Skywalker?" Darvix bitterly asked.

"Three years," Skywalker replied.

Darvix felt as if he had been thrown into the vacuum of space. Three years he'd be forced to stay away from his mission. Before he could object, Skywalker had vanished from the control room. Darvix sat down in the command chair and stared into the recesses of hyperspace once more. After a few moments, he glanced towards a lone datapad sitting on the navigation console. Idly, he lifted his hand and reached out with the Force, causing the datapad to float into the air. He held it there for a few moments before balling his hand into a fist. Slowly the datapad began to crumple.

With one final burst of anger, Darvix hurled the datapad across the bridge.


	19. Flying Solo

**Chapter 17 - Flying Solo**

_24 ABY – Yavin IV_

It was dark in Darvix Zorvan's quarters. The blinds over his windows were drawn, shutting out the hot jungle wasteland outside. The only light to be found came from his desk, were a small lamp illuminated the stacks of datapads that had gathered there. Slumped in the center of the desk was Darvix, fast asleep amidst his own mess. Next to the arm his head was resting on was an open black case filled with several hypodermic needles and several vials of semi-clear liquid as well as one empty vial.

Some had said that Darvix had let himself go over the past three years. His once clean appearance had been replaced with long, shaggy black hair and a seemingly perpetual 1700 Hour shadow on his face. He seemed to be constantly tired, which was only proven by the bags under his eyes (which seemed to have become a permanent feature). Students complained that he had become increasingly irritable in recent months. It probably had something to do with the short leash Skywalker seemed to have him on. He always seemed to be watching over Darvix's shoulder, waiting for him to make a mistake.

Darvix was suddenly awoken by the sound of his comlink ringing. Groaning, he groped around his desk, knocking over a stack of datapads as he tried to find it. Finally, his fingers wrapped around the device. As he flipped it on, he brought it to his face.

"Zorvan," Darvix muttered. "This had better be important."

"The Kalidor has landed," a male voice said. "Encrypted coordinates sent. You have a two-hour window, Datapad."

Darvix glanced at his desk chronometer, cursing as the numbers 0130 flashed at him, "Damnit Aves, it's too early to be talking in codenames. Give me a half-hour…my blood-to-caf ratio is dangerously low."

"Acknowledged, Zorvan," Aves replied. "See you in thirty."

Darvix sat upright and glanced around his surroundings. He had fallen asleep at his desk again, and his back was killing him. Shaking his head, Darvix stood and moved to his closet. He carefully tiptoed around the stacks upon stacks of datapads that had accumulated in his room. Opening his closet door, he reached for his jacket, only to have his hand brush against his flightsuit. He paused for a moment to look at the orange suit. His helmet, painted with a yellow and green checkered pattern, sat atop the closet shelf. This was something he used to wear every day, something that had once been a part of his daily existence.

It pained him to admit it, but at that moment, Darvix missed being a pilot. Obviously, he didn't miss the white-knuckle combat and constant fear for his life. No, what he missed was the sense of freedom it gave him. With a few simple commands, he could travel anywhere, at any speed, and at any vector. With an audible sigh, Darvix peeled his eyes away from the flightsuit and plucked his grey jacket from its hanger and left his room.

***

* * *

Darvix had met Aves a little over a year ago. After Skywalker had shut him out of the Jedi Archives, Darvix began work on finding information about the Star Maps from other sources. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that he had little skill for finding information that wasn't directly in front of him. Darvix excelled at analyzing data, not finding it. It was this quandary that sent Darvix scrambling to find help. The trouble was, he had to keep it a secret from Skywalker. If he found out that Darvix was still trying to research the final whereabouts of Darth Revan and the Exile, he would probably be forced to strip Darvix of all communications privledges.

It was a dilemma, to say the least. Who could he speak with that would be both skillful at finding information and keeping secrets. In Darvix's mind, there was only one option. Talon Karrde. It was said that Karrde had information for everyone in the galaxy, provided they had enough credits to pay for it. While offworld on Coruscant a year ago, Darvix had arranged to meet with Karrde. The meeting was brief and to the point. Darvix needed information, but didn't have any means to pay for it.

Karrde came up with a compromise. He would provide information in exchange for Darvix's services in his intelligence and information network. Karrde would funnel Darvix data to be analyzed, sorted, and priced. The reward was Karrde's people searching Manaan, Dantooine, Kashyyyk, and Korriban for information concerning the Star Maps and Darth Revan. It was a small price for Darvix to pay. Instead of sleep, he poured over datapads and old records, reporting his findings back to Karrde. For over a year, Darvix spent his day teaching within the Academy and his nights analyzing data. Sleep had become a rare luxury.

Karrde would send Aves to deliver Darvix's reward personally. Darvix had insisted that the exchange be made physically; it was one less trail for Skywalker to catch onto. Aves was the longtime chief aide in Karrde's organization, responsible primarily for communications duties. If Karrde couldn't make the transfer himself, Darvix knew that Aves was the next best option. He trusted Aves…at least, he trusted Aves as much as you could trust a fringe information gatherer.

Darvix glanced around the jungle's trees as he approached the blonde man, "You couldn't have let me sleep for another hour before calling?"

"Sorry, Zorvan," Aves said with a shrug. "I've got to be in Bothawuii soon. Karrde's in the process of fleecing their pockets."

"I'd expect nothing less," Darvix said. "What do you have?"

Aves reached into his jacket and pulled out a datapad, placing it into Darvix's hands, "Last one, found it in an old Sith grave in Korriban."

"Spooky," Darvix muttered as he powered the datapad on.

"Tell that to my men," Aves replied. "Claimed they saw some things that would make Antilles wet his flightsuit."

"I'll take your word for it," Darvix looked up at Aves. "What's this going to cost me?"

"Nothing, apparently," Aves said. "Karrde says that the two of you are even at this point, although he wanted it to be abundantly clear that he would greatly appreciate your continued presence with the organization."

Darvix couldn't help but laugh, "Tell the bastard father I never had that as soon as I'm done with this mess, we'll sit down with a bottle of Whyren's reserve and discuss what my continued services are worth to him."

"He thought you'd say that," Aves said. "If you want to find us, I'm sure you'll be able to. If you'll excuse me, there are some Bothans waiting to be ripped off."

Aves was gone moments later. Just like everyone else in Karrde's organization, he had the ability to vanish at a moment's notice. Perhaps after all was said and done, Darvix would leave the Academy and join Karrde's group of "information gatherers." At the very least, it would present him a rather intriguing intellectual challenge.

***

* * *

For the first time in what quite literally was years, Darvix was grinning from ear to ear. On a sheet of flimsy Darvix had written down a single word, circling it several times as if he were afraid to forget it. "Lehon." The name of a planet that rested in a remote part of the Galaxy that travelers rarely visited. Little information existed concerning the planet, other than a few general accounts how dangerous it was to visit it. It was referred to in lore as a "Starship Graveyard," a haunted region where starships and starfighters disappeared. There were countless horror stories of foolish pilots that had ventured to Lehon, only to disappear from the face of the Galaxy, never to be seen again.

Darvix finally knew where he needed to go. Now he needed to convince the Master Skywalker to remove the leash that had been around Darvix's neck for three years.

"I'm going to Lehon," Darvix said flatly.

"No, you're not," Luke didn't bother to even look away from the datapad he was reading.

"Why not?" Darvix asked. "I've been a good little Jedi for four years!"

"I know you were working with Karrde behind my back," Luke replied.

Darvix slammed his fists down on Luke's desk, "You restricted me from the archives and personal travel! All I did was read a few datapads that Karrde managed to track down."

"Have you ever stopped to consider why I put these restrictions on you?" Luke asked. "You've developed the worst case of tunnel vision I've ever seen. You are so focused on solving this little puzzle of yours that you've completely forgotten why it is I gave you this damned assignment in the first place."

"That's exactly why you gave me this assignment!" Darvix barked. "You said it yourself, this entire mess with Revan and the Exile is just a puzzle, and that's the one thing I'm good at: solving puzzles."

"I gave you this assignment so you'd finally grow a sense of responsibility for your actions," Luke sighed. "I just ended up enabling you to continue with your selfish ambitions."

"You're damn right it's selfish!" Darvix snapped. "Forgive me for wanting to try to clear my name. I walk through these halls every day getting bleak stares from anyone that has tenure here. All of the Masters and most of the Knights know that I was rather intimate with the Dark Side."

"We've all felt the allure of the Dark Side at some point," Luke said, finally looking up at Darvix.

"Sure, but are you guilty of war crimes?" Darvix asked.

Skywalker was the only person Darvix had ever confessed these particular transgressions to. While serving as a pilot in Rogue Squadron, he had committed several wartime crimes that could easily have landed him in a brig cell for the rest of his life. After the death of his fiancé, Darvix found himself lost in a sea of rage. The first thing he did was hack into a security system so he could speak with a prisoner that was withholding vital information. Only weeks later, he chased an Imperial pilot to a planetary surface and came within inches of killing the pilot in a fit of anger.

Had General Antilles reported what Darvix had done, he would be staring at a prison cell ceiling at this very moment. Sadly, that wasn't the atrocity that would land Darvix in the most trouble. One year before he left Rogue Squadron for the Jedi Academy, Darvix committed a crime that, to this day, caused him to wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

With the Rogues on assignment on his homeworld of Nar Shaddaa, Darvix ran into his mother. He hadn't seen her since he defected to the New Republic five years earlier, and in hindsight, he could have waited another five years. In that fateful meeting, Darvix learned of his Jedi lineage, as well as his mother's treachery. Brainwashed by the Empire, she would her husband, meaning that Darvix would never have a chance to meet his father, Derik Zorvan.

It was that event that pushed Darvix into his decent into the Dark Side. For just a moment, he allowed his emotions to take complete control of his body. When he finally regained his composure, he was staring at the mutilated body of his mother. He numbly realized that his father's lightsaber, which he had liberated from his mother a few days earlier, was covered with her blood.

"Skywalker, you and I both know that I'm not going to rest easy until I've made peace with my past," Darvix said. "If you don't let me go, I'm dropping my lightsaber on your desk and leaving this all behind."

Luke stared at Darvix for what seemed like an eternity before answering, "Fine, but know that I'm not going to clean up after you this time. This is the last time I'm going to forgive you for screwing up."

***

* * *

Kasari tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she stumbled towards the door of her quarters. Someone had rang her door chime, and they were about to get an earful from Kasari. She groped the wall, trying to find the ever elusive door control panel. With a groan, her fingers caught the cold edges of the panel. As the door opened, the harsh artificial light from the hallway hit her, causing Kasari to wince.

"Damnit its 0300," Kasari swore. "What's going on?"

"Get dressed," Kyle Katarn was standing in front of her. "We're going Lehon right now."

"Excuse me, what?" Kasari asked.

"Skywalker let Darvix run off to some backwater planet," Kyle said. "Gave him a twelve-hour head start. We're going to shadow him."

"Not interested," Kasari said flatly.

"Neither am I, but Skywalker insists we go."

Kasari sighed, "I'm not cleaning up after him again."

"There's not going to be any cleanup this time," Kyle said. "First sign of trouble we're grabbing him and taking him back home. Short of that, we're just there to watch."

Kasari was exasperated. Three years ago, Darvix had nearly gotten her killed in a foolish stunt for information he could have easily obtained elsewhere. She had put up with a great deal of Darvix's antics, but that proved to be the end of her tolerance with him. She hadn't spoken with him since returning from Tatooine, opting to work with Kyle instead. She wanted nothing more to do with Darvix Zorvan.

"Jan is waiting," Kyle said. "Be at hangar three in thirty minutes."

With that, Kyle left. It took every moral fiber in Kasari's body not to lash out and scream at the top of her lungs. Luckily, she had the ability to control herself. Unlike Darvix.

***

* * *

_Lehon System _

Darvix flexed his fingers around the flighstick of his X-Wing as he took another glance at his canopy-mounted chronometer. In a few minutes, he would be dropping out of hyperspace and into a debris field that would frighten even the most seasoned pilot. His teeth gritted together as he watched the chronometer roll back towards zero. It had been a long time since he had sat behind the controls of a military grade starfighter, let alone fly through extremely hazardous conditions. If he wasn't careful, he would find himself resting eternally in Carth Onasi's locker.

The Lehon system was filled with the corpses of destroyed starships and starfighters. Huge pieces of metal littered the space there, making travel incredibly dangerous. It was unknown where there was so much carnage left within the system, but one thing was certain: navigating through it was suicide.

"Zone, I'm going to need as much forward telemetry on the debris field as you can muster," Darvix said into his helmet mounted microphone. "Route that information through the primary display…Scratch that, can you superimpose an outline of all debris point-two clicks ahead onto the heads-up display?"

Darvix's R2 unit gave an affirmative trill. Plastering that information on his HUD would allow Darvix to "see behind" large pieces of debris. That could give him the chance to plan his maneuvers in advance. The last thing he wanted was to circle around a chunk of debris only to be blindsided by another chunk. Warning alarms began to sound in his cockpit as the chronometer approached zero. Seconds later, the molten black and blue of hyperspace gave way into realspace.

There was Lehon in the distance, a brilliant blue orb surrounded by an immense field of debris. As Darvix approached the tangled and mutilated masses of metal, green outlines began to fill his heads up display. He'd have to fly quickly, any open lanes he might find could quickly close due to the moving debris. Darvix quickly rerouted power from his laser cannon system to his deflector shield generator and engines. Taking one last deep breath, he keyed in the command to engage his starfighter's strike foils, causing the wings to deploy into its infamous X shape.

Before long, he was surrounded by the debris. He threw his throttle to full and began his grueling march towards Lehon. His eyes constantly darted around the heads up display, trying to find a small opening to fit his starfighter through. Darvix didn't even realize that his breathing had become shallow with anxiety, and his rusty piloting skills only served to make his situation worse. As Darvix skirted around what looked to be a thruster from a Corellian Blockade Runner, a large hull fragment appeared in front of his X-Wing. Darvix quickly pushed both of his etheric rudder to the left, turning the X-Wing away from the metal with mere feet to spare.

"Hang in there, Zone, about fifty more cliks to go," Darvix muttered through clenched teeth.

Darvix turned his X-Wing onto its side as he narrowly threaded his way between two jagged pieces of hull. As he leveled off, something crashed into his forward deflector shield, quickly bouncing off. It must not have been that big, for it didn't cause any serious damage. However, the quick glance Darvix caught of the object led him to believe it wasn't a piece of a former starship.

It almost looked like a corpse.

Darvix shook the image from his mind as he refocused his attention on the debris field. Lehon nearly filled his forward visual range now. Just a few more maneuvers and he'd be free of the field. He nudged his flightstick downward, ducking under the remnants of a large laser cannon. As he neared Lehon's atmosphere, the green outlines of debris that filled his HUD began to vanish. Finally, he began to regulate his breathing. As he entered the atmosphere, he realized he was covered in sweat. It had been far too long since he had pulled a stunt like that.

Hopefully after he left Lehon, he'd never have to do something like that again.

***

* * *

A full day later, the Raven's Claw managed to make its way to Lehon's surface. The minute the ship dropped out of hyperspace, Jan Ors was forced to stop the ship dead in its tracks. The debris field was going to be a nightmare to travel through, and she wasn't about to put the lives of her two passengers at risk. Orders from Skywalker or not, she wasn't proceeding until she could figure out a way to safely navigate towards the planet. Resorting to a series of short, but safe maneuvers, Jan guided the ship and her passengers to the planet's surface without event. Unfortunately, it had cost them approximately twelve addition hours of flight time.

"This is going to be tricky, tracking him down with that much of a head start," Kyle mused as he watched the sky turn from black to blue.

"If we find his ship, he's probably huddled next to it shooting up some spice," Kasari said. "At that point we grab his incoherent ass, throw him on board, and go home."

"His short temper sure has rubbed off on you," Kyle noted.

"I lost patience with him about six years ago," Kasari leaned forward in her seat as she scanned the horizon. "So did Kelrune. Haven't heard from him since Skywalker put Zorvan on probation. Last I heard he was working for Booster Terrik."

"Gave up on Darvix and decided to work for the smugglers?"

"More like Darvix gave up on him," Kasari shrugged. "After Skywalker issued the probation order, Zorvan stopped talking to both of us. Rather than deal with that headache, Vik just went to find work elsewhere.

"If this Zorvan guy is as bad as you make him out to be," Jan finally piped up, "I say we just leave him here and head for Commenor. I've got an itch to go gamble."

"I'm telling you, I don't have the credits to support your gambling habits!" Kyle groaned.

"Tell Skywalker you need a raise, then," Jan said. "Hang on… I think I've got a fix on an X-Wing transponder, dropping in to take a look."

Lehon was a tropical world similar to that of Mon Calamari. There were a few sparse islands amidst an enormous ocean that covered nearly the planet's entire surface. It would be a rather pleasant paradise, if it wasn't for the littered corpses of destroyed starships that stuck out of the water's surface. The planet truly was a graveyard. In the distance, Kasari could make out the faint outline of an X-Wing. No doubt, it belonged to Darvix.

"Setting down," Jan said. "Not detecting any life signs in the nearby vicinity. Might have a droid signal, though."

The Claw touched down on the sandy surface of the island and lowered her loading ramp. Kasari stood and made her way down, shielding her eyes as the bright light from the nearby sun filled her vision. After taking a moment to stretch her stiff muscles, she made her way to the X-Wing. Sure enough, Darvix was nowhere to be found. The bottom compartment was left open, meaning that he had probably taken a fair amount of supplies with him. Glancing upwards, she saw that his R2 unit was still nestled behind the cockpit. Kasari mounted the strike foil and moved towards it.

"Zone, have you seen Darvix?" Kasari asked.

The droid responded with an indignant trill.

"Slow down, I didn't catch that," Kasari said.

"He said that he's not going to tell you," Kyle said from the ground, looking up at Kasari.

"Great," Kasari groaned. "The droid is as impossible as Darvix."

"Don't bother," Kyle said. "There's a pyramid shaped building about two clicks from here. I'd wager ten credits that Zorvan's somewhere inside it."

"Fine, let's get going then," Kasari jumped down from the strike foil.

"No," Kyle said. "We're here to shadow him, not read over his shoulder. We'll set up camp here and wait."

Kasari wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or relieved at that order. For some reason, unbeknownst even to her, she felt compelled to go running after him. She supposed it was a force of habit. She had done it so many times while acting as Zorvan's apprentice, it was only natural to feel as if it were her responsibility to keep him out of trouble. For now, she would listen to what Kyle said. She'd give Darvix the chance to get himself into trouble before coming to his rescue again.

***

* * *

Darvix lifted his glowrod above his head, trying to cast some light into the dimly lit hallways of the ancient building he had just entered. After casting a cautious glance around the room, he slowly made his way deeper into the building. He couldn't have possibly braced himself for what was to come. All around him were clothed skeletons. Nearby blaster marks scorched the walls, signs of a bloodbath that had likely occurred eons ago. The building had an aura of death about it. Darvix feared to stretch out with the Force, for he knew exactly what he would find: an evil presence that would no doubt cause him to second guess himself.

This building, this planet, this entire star system was rank with a dark mystique so strong that it was beginning to tear away at Darvix's emotional wall. Darvix was frightened to be here. Unconsciously, his hand began drifting towards his holstered hand blaster. He didn't need the Force to realize that he was in a dangerous place. As he rounded a corner of the hallway, Darvix stopped in his tracks. He could hear something in the distance. In the darkness, two bright, blue lights suddenly appeared.

Two bright, blue lights that were suddenly moving closer to him.

Darvix quickly pulled his blaster out of its holster and fired into the darkness. The red bolts illuminated the hallway, revealing what was charging towards him: an ancient battle droid. Darvix backpedaled as fast as he could, firing off shots as quickly as his index finger would let him. Suddenly, Darvix lost his footing, causing him to stumble backwards. At that same moment, the sound of laser fire could be heard. Before he had time to think, Darvix called upon the Force to throw up a protective barrier, deflecting the laser shots back at the droid. However, before he could get back to his feet, the Droid was atop him.

All he could do was reach up and take a hold of one of the droid's four insect-like legs. Using it as leverage, he twisted away from the droid. Calling upon the Force again, he cast Force Push. The telekinetic burst of pressurized air, blasted the droid into a nearby wall, giving Darvix a few moments of time to jump high into the air and onto the droid's back. Spotting his blaster nearby, he summoned it with the Force, causing it to fly into his outstretched hand. Leveling the blaster against the droid's circuitry housing, he squeezed off the trigger several times, piercing its armor and destroying its vital electronic components. The droid crashed to the ground, causing Darvix to sprawl into the wall.

As Darvix tried to catch his breath, he realized he was sitting next to another clothed skeleton. He was too tired to be repulsed. Slowly, Darvix pulled his pack off of his back and set it into his lap. His hands were shaking with fear. He needed to calm himself down. Darvix opened the pack and reached into it, only to have a sense of panic and dread fill his body. In a fit, he spilled the contents of the backpack onto the floor, frantically digging through its contents.

He was in trouble.

His spice was missing, and as his shaking hands testified, he was already beginning to suffer from withdrawals.


	20. Fallout

**Chapter 18 - Fallout**

Time had begun to lose meaning to Darvix. His spice-less stupor had caused him to meander through the building almost aimlessly. He would trip over himself and would be forced to sit down to take long breaks. A walk that shouldn't have taken any longer than thirty minutes had ballooned into twelve standard hours. Not that he noticed. His mind was in too much of a fog to register time.

As sweat poured down his face, he gazed into the seemingly endless corridor. Already his withdrawal symptoms were playing games with his vision. The walls around him spun and shook violently, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He leaned against the wall beside him, needing its support to stay in his feet. He knew idly that he should have turned around and returned to his X-Wing the minute he began feeling ill, but he was close. He knew that just at this end of this corridor within the lowest level of the temple was something that would make the picture clearer. He just had to force himself to continue walking forward.

His entire body was shaking with fatigue. Every time he placed one foot in front of the other, his entire being exploded into a world of pain he had never felt before. The logical part of his mind recognized that his heart rate had elevated to an incredibly dangerous level that put him at risk of stroking out. His shallow breathing wasn't helping matters any. Darvix was dangerously close to a complete physical breakdown, but he didn't care. He could see the sealed door at the end of the corridor, just a few more paces ahead. If he could just get beyond that door, he was confident he'd find what he was looking for.

Darvix's research had lead him to learn of the existence of a holocron that had belonged to Darth Revan. He hoped (and to a certain extent believed) that it would contain information concerning the final whereabouts of Revan. In truth, he had no idea if the device actually existed, much less what it contained. After three years of inactivity, Darvix was desperate to spark new life in his puzzle. He wasn't about to fail at this task like he had failed at everything else he had aspired to accomplish in his life.

Finally, he was standing at the door. Darvix managed to find the entry control to its left and began keying in commands. He sincerely hoped that he had correctly memorized the button sequence, the last thing he wanted to do was force the door open via explosive charges. That very well could cause the entire temple to collapse on top of him. Thankfully, the panel accepted the keystrokes and the door slowly slid open, revealing a dark chamber.

Darvix lifted up his glowrod to illuminate the room. At the far end was an ancient terminal, indicator lights still flashing and operating. The walls were barren…save for the unmistakable signs of blaster scoring and lightsaber burns. Finally, in the center of the room was a small podium where the holocron was said to be resting.

What a shame that it wasn't there.

Darvix slowly approached the podium, his mind numb. He had come all this way and waited so long, only to have the entire effort rendered pointless. The holocron was gone. If the holocron and information truly did exist, it was likely destroyed ages ago. Any traces of it would no doubt be lost by the time the Jedi Purge prior to the Galactic Civil War occurred. Darvix knew he was an idiot to believe a four-thousand year old holocron was still sitting here, undisturbed.

Defeated, he slumped against the wall and stared at the empty podium as he sat down. By now his heart rate and reached a frenzied pace. He closed his eyes as he tried to stave off the loss of consciousness that was likely coming. Darvix needed medical attention, and he wasn't likely to get it. He no longer had the strength to make his way out of the temple, proving just how foolish he was for not turning back sooner. Kasari had been right, his headfirst attitude had finally gotten him killed. Without the chemicals of the spice running through his body, his brain was misfiring. Before long, his heart would go from an accelerated heart rate to an erratic rhythm. From there, it was only a matter of time before it shut down.

"I think I'm going to die," Darvix muttered to himself.

He always thought that he'd treat death is something inevitable and that he'd embrace it. At the very least, he'd accept it. Instead, Darvix was frightened._He didn't want to die._ Not like this, not as a failure. He still had things to accomplish. He wasn't ready. When Darvix opened his eyes, he knew that he was falling apart fast. Now he was hallucinating.

Standing before him was his dead mother.

***

* * *

It had been thirty-six standard hours since Kasari, Kyle, and Jan had arrived on Lehon. Still, there was no sign of Darvix. Kasari couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right. It wasn't so much the Force tugging at her, but her intimate knowledge of Darvix. He couldn't go five minutes without getting himself into some sort of mess. Normally, he had someone around him to save him. Kasari had no idea what he got into trouble while alone. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was genuinely concerned about him.

Jan and Kyle were asleep. It was her turn to keep watch through the night hours, not that there was much to look out for. Lehon was a planet void of a native species. Thousands of years ago, a sentient species known as the Rakatan lived on the world, but had long since died out. All that were left were gizka and other small rodents. At this point, the watch was just a formality. If Darvix didn't show up within the next twelve hours, it was agreed that they would go searching for him. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

_I think I'm going to die._

Kasari suddenly bolted upright. That was Darvix's voice, there was no mistaking it. The Force was bombarding her mind, conveying the fear and panic that was running through Darvix's mind at that very moment. He was in trouble. For some reason that escaped her, Kasari jumped to her feet and took a hold of her supply pack, taking of towards the temple without bothering to wake Jan or Kyle.

Was it foolish to go alone? Probably. Was she making a mistake? Possibly. None of that mattered, though. Instincts took over Kasari's body as she raced towards Darvix.

***

* * *

"I've died and gone to hell, haven't I?" Darvix muttered softly.

"No, not yet anyways," his mother replied.

Darvix looked up at the figure of his mother, "Then I'm just hallucinating right now."

"That would probably be the most technically correct description, yes."

Darvix sighed to himself. The misfiring chemicals in his brain were causing him to see things; vivid hallucinations were beginning to plague what little consciousness he had left. This would persist for an hour, perhaps two. He knew that after that, he'd likely slip into a comatose state. Hopefully from there death would be painless.

"Is this going to be one of those bittersweet mother and son moments," Darvix said. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just skip this and get straight to the whole death thing."

"You know why you're seeing me right now," his mother said.

"I'm not going to forgive you," Darvix muttered.

The image of Darvix's mother could only shrug, "We both know you never will. You'll just take the grudge to your grave, just like the rest of your petty faults. After all, it's easier to change the Galaxy around you than to fix your own shortcomings."

"Keep it up, mother," Darvix looked up at the darkened ceiling, "it's not like I could possibly hate you more than I already do."

"True, but that's still not the reason you're seeing your dead mother in a rather vivid hallucination."

Darvix managed to laugh slightly. He wasn't really arguing with his mother, he was engaged in a full-on feud with his own mind. In his delirious stupor, Darvix's conscious was finally forcing him to confront the emotions and fears he had been running away from for so many years. The first and foremost issue was now right in front of him, taking the shape of his mother.

"How do you forgive yourself for committing murder?" Darvix asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I suppose you could start by finally accepting what Skywalker has been telling you for six years," his mother said. "You did kill me in cold blood, yes… but you know you made a mistake that strayed from your defined personality so far it can't possibly be used as a definition of who you are. You're not a murderer. You're a man with a shaky foundation who screwed up."

"Some consolation," Darvix replied. "I may not be a murderer, but that's okay. I'm just a fool who makes 'mistakes' that may result in the deaths of those around me."

"I wouldn't quite put it that way," his mother said in turn. "You're a reckless person who caves into his emotions. Hidden beneath that façade of callous, calculating intelligence is a man who is victim of his own feelings. The rage, the fear, the anger, the lust…even the joy. Your emotions take over every aspect of your life. Perhaps anyone else could get away with it, but you? The fact you harness the Force makes your inherent personality crippling."

"I think I liked my explanation better," Darvix said.

"Of course you would. Your definition means that there's no hope for fixing your broken self. My definition gives you a glimmer of hope. You might actually be able to be happy if you can keep your emotions in check. Although, both of us know that the last thing you want to be is happy… or is it the last thing you deserve to be is happy?"

Darvix didn't say anything.

"It's time to put it behind you," his mother moved towards him, kneeling beside him.

"How do I know it won't happen again?" Darvix asked.

"You don't," she replied. "But you know what it will take to ensure you don't make the same mistake again."

Darvix's mother leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. She – or rather his mind- was right. What more was there to say? It had been eight years since he had allowed the Dark Side to take the reigns of his emotions, ultimately resulting in the death of his own mother. Eight years since he had been able to look in a mirror and see something other than a heartless murderer. Skywalker was right. He had made a foolish and deadly mistake…but no longer would he allow it to define who he was.

"Goodbye, Darvix," the image of his mother said.

"Goodbye, mom," he replied quietly.

She vanished as suddenly and quietly as she had appeared, and with her departure, so too did the guilt he had carried on his shoulders for eight miserable years. It was a shame, though. As Darvix slipped deeper into his self-inflicted oblivion, he realized that he wouldn't be able to enjoy this sense of guiltlessness for very long.

_I could really use some of that spice right now._

Darvix sighed to himself and glanced to his side. Sitting right next to him was a glowing blue figure. He idly recognized it as being a Force ghost. If he weren't in such a delirious state, Darvix would probably have wet himself out of fear and shock. Of course, it could easily just be another hallucination. That'd be the simplest explanation.

"Four-thousand years," the Force ghost mused. "Took you long enough. Do you know how boring it is to be in this limbo state? My wife is going to kill me for taking so long to cross over."

Sitting right next to him was someone he thought he would never make contact with, not while among the living, anyways. The figure stood up and moved in front of Darvix, casting an amused grin towards him. Darvix still wasn't sure whether or not to believe it, but right in front of him was the Force ghost of Atton Rand.

_Well,_ Darvix mused. _This is as good a time for a family reunion as any._

***

* * *

"With all due respect, you look like hell," Atton said.

"Spice withdrawal," Darvix noted.

"Been there before," the Force ghost replied. "How long do you figure you have until your heart decides to give up on you?"

"Thirty minutes or so."

"Well, I had better hurry then."

Darvix looked quizzically at the image of his long-dead ancestor, "Hurry with what?"

"You're here for information," Atton said. "I'm here to give it to you. What do you want to know?"

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Darvix replied as his organic right hand moved to stabilize his robotic left arm. The electronic signals being sent from his arm to his motor cortex were becoming unstable as his health continued to falter. His left hand clenched and unclenched randomly. Compounded with the spasmodic twitching of the rest of his body, it looked as if Darvix were a malfunctioning protocol droid.

"Fair enough," The Force-ghost of Atton Rand was slowly pacing along the walls of the dark room now. "I'm sure you already know the backstory… It was the Mandalorian war, and the Republic was on the verge of collapse. Coruscant begged for the Jedi to involve themselves and fight against the Mandalorians. The Jedi Council on Dantooine, however, refused. The Jedi Masters agreed that a more diplomatic approach should be taken. Ultimately, they decided to sit back and watch. From a distance.

"That particular decision didn't sit will with a good number of the Jedi, who were in essence told to patiently watch as their homeworlds fell one by one to the Mandalorian empire. For two Jedi in particular, the Council's decision to let the Republic fall: Revan and his apprentice Malak. The two of them convinced a great number of Jedi to defect and rush to the Republic's aid. The Republic placed Revan in charge of the Republic navy and military, and the war began to turn against the Mandalorians. Ultimately, it came down to a boiling point at Malachor V."

"Malachor V?" Darvix asked. "I've never seen that planet on any of the charts."

"For good reason," Atton replied. "You probably know it as the Alpha-Nine debris field. Malachor was deep in the heart of Mandalorian territory… by this point in time, Revan was well on his way to being corrupted by the Dark Side of the Force, leading him to engage in tactics that both the Jedi Council and Republic would never have endorsed. In complete secrecy, Revan built a superweapon on Malachor V, the "Mass Shadow Generator." After luring the Mandalorians to the hidden trap, Revan left the fleet in the hands of one of his generals. The Mandalorians took the bait, and the general gave the go-ahead to activate the weapon. The shadow generator dragged a significant portion of both fleets into Malachor V's surface, instantly crushing them. Malachor V was effectively destroyed, but wound up being finished off a few years later, leaving behind a debris field of immense proportions.

"The war was effectively over by this point. It was only a few weeks before an unconditional surrender was offered by the Mandalorian empire. By this time, Revan and Malak had both been corrupted by power and vanished from the face of the Galaxy to pursue the teachings of the Sith. Revan took a great number of his followers with him. Nothing was heard from them for about a standard year, when they suddenly reappeared in Republic space with a massive invasion fleet bent on overthrowing the Republic. Revan, who only a year earlier was considered a hero by the Republic, had become Darth Revan. His only goal was to destroy the Republic in the name of the Sith. The Mandalorian war gave way to the Jedi Civil War."

"How does the Exile fit into this?" Darvix asked.

"The Exile," Atton looked pained for a moment. "The Exile was Revan's most trusted military commander. She was a Jedi that left the Council at the request of Revan and went to war alongside the Republic... The Exile was the General Revan placed in charge of the battle of Malachor V. Shortly after the end of the Mandalorian war, the Exile returned to Dantooine to face punishment for joining Revan's forces and leading the Republic to war. She was the only fallen Jedi who chose to receive punishment for defying the Council.

"Despite the fact that she was perhaps the only one who realized that Revan had been seduced by the Dark Side, and the only Jedi who successfully turned her back on Revan and the Dark Side, the Council decided that only the strictest punishment was appropriate. The Exile was stripped of her lightsaber and connection to the Force. She was cast out of the Jedi Council and forced to live in a state of Exile the rest of her life. Supposedly she left Republic space shortly after the ruling and was never heard from again."

Atton fell silent. Darvix closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall behind him.

"You haven't told me everything," Darvix said flatly.

"For a man who has about ten or fifteen minutes left to live," Atton noted, "you're rather perceptive."

"What happened to Revan and the Exile after the Jedi Civil War?" Darvix asked. "The Jedi Archives barely mention the Jedi Civil War. All that's said is Revan was killed by one of the Council's most skilled Jedi Knights! It fails to even mention the Exile!"

"I can't tell you that, Darvix," Atton said. "Not yet, anyways. You're not done fulfilling the prophecy set out for you.

"I don't even know what this prophecy is," Darvix sighed in disappointment. He wasn't going to get the complete picture for Atton, it was another dead-end.

"At least answer one last question," Darvix pleaded. "The Jedi Civil War, Darth Revan, the Exile…it could have all been avoided had the Jedi Council come to the Republic's aid, couldn't it?"

"All of it could have been avoided," Atton admitted. "Every last horrifying detail. The Mandalorian War wouldn't have been a blood bath, the Jedi Civil War would never have happened, Revan wouldn't have become a tool of the Sith… It would have been dramatically different.

Darvix looked up at Atton, a somber look on his face, "We're about to repeat history, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so," Atton said, "and there's nothing you can do about it. The Jedi and the New Republic are going to need this experience. As horrible as it's going to be, they're going to have to learn that sometimes diplomacy and a passive approach don't work."

"What am I supposed to do?" Darvix asked.

"Exactly what you had planned on doing from the beginning," Atton replied. "You're going to find out where Revan and the Exile went after the Mandalorian War and uncover the truth about them…of course, this is all dependent on your apprentice showing up within the next few minutes to keep you from dieing."

Darvix slowly became aware of the pain that was growing in his chest. He glanced up at Atton one last time before closing his eyes, finally drifting into unconsciousness. Atton Rand took one look at Darvix before disappearing into the Force once more.

"You have her eyes," he said to himself.

***

* * *

Kasari lifted up her glowrod to illuminate the dark control room. At the far wall was a still operating terminal console. There was a podium in the center of the room without anything atop it. The walls were covered in carbon scoring from blaster fire, but other than that the room was empty.

Except for the unconscious body of Darvix Zorvan slumped against the wall.

Kasari rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. His breathing was shallow and labored. Darvix's pulse was no better, quick and erratic. It looked as if the life had been drained out of him. Darvix's skin was pale and soaked with sweat. Kasari knew that he needed to be stabilized quickly. Reaching into her pack, Kasari withdrew the bulky medkit she had brought with her and threw it open. She withdrew a datapad-looking object and turned it on, allowing it to scan over Darvix's body.

His heart looked to be in the final stages of cardiac arrest, meaning Kasri had to act quickly. She dug through the kit once more, pulling out a spray hypo and a vial of medication that would hopefully stabilize his heartbeat. Holding the hypo between her teeth, she lay Darvix on his back and took a hold of the fabric of his shirt, ripping it apart to expose his bare chest. Acting quickly, she placed the hypo right over his heart and injected the medication.

"Don't die on me now you bastard," Kasari muttered through clenched teeth.

She glanced at the device monitoring Darvix's vital signs. Slowly, they appeared to stabilize. Darvix was going to be okay. At that moment, Kasari couldn't bring herself to be angry with him for getting into another mess, forcing her to bail him out. Relief flooded over her as she watched Darvix's breathing ease into a more stable pattern.

"There's…easier ways to get me in bed with you," Darvix muttered softly as he regained consciousness.

Kasari acted without thinking. She threw his arms around Darvix and dragged him into her body. Darvix didn't quite know what to do. If he wasn't mistaken, Kasari was _crying_ into his shoulder. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her as well. How had she found him? By all rights, he should be dead right now.

"Damn you," she said quietly. "I told you you'd get yourself killed if you weren't careful."

"You were right," Darvix said somberly. "Looks like you bailed me out again…"

"Don't think I'm going to make a habit out of this," Kasari said as she helped Darvix to his feet, supporting his weight against her body.

"You've been doing it for seven years," Darvix noted. "I'd say that's habit by now."

Kasari only smiled to herself as she helped Darvix move towards the door, "You're a terrible influence on me."

"Skywalker's been trying to tell you that for years," Darvix said.

Suddenly he stopped moving. The console at the far wall caught his attention. When he had come in to the room, there had been a few flashing red lights on its control panel. Now, there was a single green light. Darvix broke away from Kasari and stumbled towards it. Kasari was close in tow, an expression of confusion and worry on her face. As Darvix leaned against the console, he depressed the button closest to the green light. The console's screen suddenly came to life. On it was a video of a man, perhaps in his late thirties. He had the features of a person who had seen more than his fair share of war and strife.

"Greetings, Descendant," the man said. "If you are seeing this message, than I can only assume that you have fulfilled the first part of the prophecy.: you freed the people of Taris' underworld as I promised them. The fact that you are here, right at this moment, means that you are the one chosen to trace my last steps in this Galaxy.

"The people of the Taris underworld have sent an encrypted signal that has unlocked this terminal for your use. You will find within it the location of the Ebon Hawk, my flagship. Within the Hawk, you'll find all of the information you have been looking for. I urge you: find my ship and recover the data hidden within it. Only then will you be able to bring about our redemption, and only then will you be able to prepare your people for the disaster that will one day afflict the entire Galaxy.

"Farewell, Descendant," the man said. "May the Force be with you."

With that, the screen faded to black.

"I was right," Darvix said quietly to himself.

"Who was that?" Kasari asked.

"That," Darvix said. "Was Darth Revan."

Darvix began the process of copying the data held within the terminal into his datapad. Without any further fanfare, Darvix and Kasari left the old temple and returned to their camp, where a very worried Kyle Katarn and Jan Ors met them. They agreed that they would leave the planet immediately and return to Yavin IV. Darvix still wasn't well enough to pilot, so he entrusted his X-Wing to Kasari while he rode as a passenger in Ors' transport.

Darvix moved towards his X-Wing loaded his pack into the underside compartment. As he moved to close the compartment door, a black object fell out. Darvix bent over and picked it up. It was his spice case. At some point in his rush to explore the temple, it must have fallen out of his pack. He glanced at the case for a moment before opening it up, revealing the spray hypo and numerous vials of the drug he had been dependent on for years. As he closed the case, he moved away from his X-Wing and towards the beach.

Without a second thought, he hurled the black case into the waiting ocean.

***

* * *

_YAVIN IV - 26 ABY_

Darvix shouldered his bag and made his way towards the transport shuttle with Luke Skywalker in tow.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Luke asked.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," Darvix replied.

Luke nodded his understanding, "You're getting yourself into a potentially dangerous situation, but you know that. We don't want anyone to follow you…you realize what this means, correct?"

"You're going to have the records show that I'm dead," Darvix said. "As far as the New Republic or the Jedi Council is concerned, Kasari and I were killed on Lehon."

"If something goes wrong, no one is coming after you," Luke said. "This could very well be it for you."

Darvix began to walk up the transport's entry ramp, "I know, Luke. It's best this way…You need all your resources for other things."

Luke affixed Darvix with a stare, "What did you learn on Lehon, Darvix?"

"Not much," Darvix shook his head. "Just…keep this in mind, Luke: sometimes diplomacy and a passive approach aren't going to work."

Luke could only shake his head at Darvix's cryptic answer, "May the Force be with you, Master Zorvan."

Darvix smiled and keyed the transport ramp lift. Not long after he was on board the Tatooine Gallows and making his way towards the bridge. As he entered the command bridge, he spotted his two closest companions. At the astrogations console was Vikan "Vik" Kelrune, a man Darvix had known for years and trusted with his life. Across from him was his first officer, Kasari Lisae, a Jedi far more gifted than Darvix could ever hope to be. They had agreed to take this voyage with Darvix, despite his warnings of the dangers and length.

"Well, what do you say we get going?" Darvix asked. "It's going to be a long three years, so we'd best get started soon."

The Tatooine Gallows disappeared into Hyperspace, and with it, it's three crew members departed Republic space for perhaps the last time.


	21. Ancient Confrontation

**Chapter 19 ****- Ancient Confrontation **

_Unknown Space – 27 ABY_

Kasari Lisae glanced at her wrist chronometer as she walked through the dark hallways of the Tatooine Gallows. The heavily modified Gallofree GR-75 transport had been retrofitted before departing from Yavin IV several years earlier. The numerous cargo modules within the transport had been converted into supplemental fuel cells and consumables storage, allowing it to stay in hyperspace for the better part of three years. Occasionally, they would drop out of hyperspace to recalculate astrogation routes. Other than that, all that could be seen from the ship's viewpoints for the last three years was the molten black and blue of hyperspace. With only three crewmembers on board, the Tatooine Gallows could afford to hide in the cover of lightspeed for the duration of the voyage. The last thing they needed was for the Imperial Remnant, pirates, or any other hostile group to catch wind of them.

As Kasari strolled past the room that housed a makeshift dining hall, she noticed the lights were on within it. Inside, she spotted Darvix hunched slightly over the table, a toolkit beside him. She quietly padded into the room, sitting down in a chair across from Darvix.

"Little late to be working on something, isn't it?" she asked.

Darvix looked up and smiled faintly, "Just the person I wanted to see. Mind picking up that pulse-adjustor tool in front of you?"

Kasari raised an eyebrow and took a hold of the small, cylindrical medical tool Darvix had pointed to. She couldn't help but notice that he was looking significantly healthier these days. The bags under his eyes had vanished and given way to a more vibrant appearance. He no longer seemed as pale as he used to. Kasari knew that he had drastically improved since giving up spice three years earlier. It was almost enough to make her to overlook his slightly receding hairline.

"Sorry for asking you to help with this," Darvix said as he set his left arm on the table, palm up. "Normally I have Luke assist me. I can't stand to do this on myself.

It took every moral fiber in Kasari's body not to put Darvix's word in an overly sexual context. She watched as Darvix picked up another small tool, placing it on the bottom-side of his right forearm. He depressed a button on the tool, and with a soft electronic tweet, the skin of his arm suddenly split apart turning into two small compartment doors. Darvix pulled the flaps of- what Kasari could now see clearly- prosthetic flesh open, revealing a complex set of circuitry and cybernetic components.

"I never knew you had a prosthetic arm," Kasari said.

"Well, it's not exactly something you bring up in polite conversation," Darvix replied.

"You're incapable of polite conversation."

"True enough," Darvix grinned. "Could you set the pulse-adjustor to point-two-eight and run it along this primary cyber-artery?"

Kasari nodded and did as she was instructed, "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did part of a protocol droid end up on your torso?"

Darvix was silent for a moment before responding, "I got into an accident on my first assignment with Rogue Squadron…hell, my first assignment ever. We were in the heart of Imperial Remnant space, trying to steal a flight of prototype starfighters the Remnant was in the process of developing. While we were trying to commandeer one of the ships, we were ambushed by a Stormtrooper battalion. My…wingman and I managed to break through the ambush and steal one of the prototype fighters and an old Xg-1 Assault Gunboat. I ended up taking the Gunboat to fly cover, while my wingman took control of the prototype starfighter.

"The two of us ended up leaving ahead of the rest of the Rogues. Unfortunately, as soon as we left the planet's atmosphere we were ambushed by a Star Destroyer and full TIE Fighter complement. We managed to hold out for a few minutes before I lost weapons control and my wingman lost aft shields and picked up a few squints- TIE Interceptors in pilot lingo. I needed to buy a little more time for the hyperspace coordinates to be set, so I crossed between the squints and my wingman. Ended up taking a few shots that were intended for the prototype starfighter to my ship's underbelly. My wingman managed to escape, but I had to punch out."

"That's how you lost your arm?" Kasari asked.

"Not quite," Darvix frowned slightly. "After punching out, a piece of shrapnel cut through part of my flightsuit and left a deep cut just about my right elbow. It turns out that having something like that happen is a quick way to diagnose that your magcon field generator is defective. My flightsuit wasn't sealing properly around the wound, meaning that if I didn't do something fast I was at risk for a complete magcon failure.

"A few years earlier I had read about a pilot in a similar situation as I was in. If a defective magcon field generator wouldn't seal off a tear in the flightsuit, there was one way to promote a full seal again: A clean cut."

"You…you didn't really, did you?" Kasari asked, eyes wide.

"I had no choice," Darvix shrugged. "I ended up using my standard-issue vibroblade sever my arm from just above the elbow. Luckily the magcon field decided to seal after that, and I was picked up by the Rogues not long afterwards. Sadly, that little stunt landed me in a bacta-tank for months... Every time I see a large body of liquid I can taste that foul stuff."

Satisfied with the adjustments made, Darvix closed up his arm and flexed his hand, "Good as new."

"You were going to marry him, weren't you?" Kasari asked. "Your wingman, that is. Vik told me that you proposed to one of your squadmates while you were a Rogue."

"…him?" Darvix looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. Repeatedly.

"You know, I think its fine that you're not interested in the opposite sex," Kasari was entirely serious. "I'm happy that you're comfortable with yourself."

Darvix held up his hands, "Hold on. Vik told you I'm gay?"

"Well, he didn't quite put it like that," Kasari admitted. "He seemed to imply that you might score from both sides of the shockball field, but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to help you save face."

"Well," Darvix admitted, "he's right."

Kasari could only stare at Darvix; despite knowing him for ten years, she had completely misread Darvix, "You mean you really are…"

"Bisexual?" Darvix asked. "Yes. Not one of those awkward teenaged experimental phases either. Have been my entire life. Hell, while I was in the Starfighter Academy I was steady with another guy for about a year."

"And you really were going to marry-"

"No," Darvix interrupted. "I was engaged to a biologically genetic human female; much like yourself… at least I think you're a biologically genetic human female. You're not holding out on me, are you?"

Kasari brushed off the question. This is one of the few times she had ever seen Darvix quite this open, and she was going to capitalize on the opportunity.

"Who was she?"

"Her name was Cheriss ke Hanadi," Darvix said, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "One of the first pilots from Adumar to make it through the Academy and was assigned to Rogue Squadron about a year before I became a greenhorn pilot with them. Made a name for herself within a couple of months, racked up more kills in that short amount of time than I did in my entire three years with the Rogues.

"We didn't exactly get off to a very good start after I was assigned to the squadron. If you thought you and I argued a lot, you should have seen the two of us go at it. She once got so mad at me she jumped over a mess hall table and knocked me on the ground to wail on me. Broke my nose and cheekbone."

"And you wanted to marry her?"

"Never been so sure of anything in my life," Darvix said. "Yes we argued, but we also had a connection I've never shared with someone before. You could even see it when we were flying. She could anticipate my every move, almost as if we were piloting the same craft. Outside of the battlefield we were so in sync that we were finishing each other's conversations…I don't think I can really describe how close we became."

"What happened?" Kasari asked.

"The last thing I ever expected," Darvix said. "It was just a damn routine patrol. The Rogues were temporarily in-between assignments, so we were flying a scheduled scout recon and patrol ahead of our command ship. While we were out there, we were ambushed by a wing of cloaked Remnant Phantoms. Somewhere in the chaos, my top starboard and bottom port thrusters were hit, as well as my avionics controls. The Remnant fighters took another pass while my X-Wing was sitting crippled. During all of this I was trying frantically to get a slip-shod hyperspace vector worked out so I could escape, but I was running out of time.

"Cheriss broke off from her flight to assist, despite orders not to. I got on the comm and told her to turn back, but she had shut off her communications array. Just as a Phantom came out of cloak to fire on me, Cheriss' X-Wing appeared between us. She took a set of lasers to her ship's underbelly and was instantly destroyed. Split seconds later, my R2 unit took control of my X-Wing and forced me into hyperspace.

"Really, the only solace I got was that she was likely killed instantly," Darvix said with a sigh. "She wound up being killed by pulling the same stunt I used to save her a few years earlier."

Kasari looked straight across at Darvix, "When are you going to forgive yourself?"

"I'm not sure," Darvix said, taken aback by the question. "Not a day goes by where I don't think about what happened to her. If she had listened to orders, she'd be the one alive and I'd be the one joining Carth Onasi's locker. I'll likely go to the grave thinking that her death is squarely on my shoulders."

"You know she wouldn't want you to keep punishing yourself," Kasari said.

"I know," Darvix said meekly. "I know."

Kasari stood and walked towards Darvix, placing a hand on his shoulder, "At some point, we all have to let the past go and move on…as much as we don't want to. Go get some sleep, Vik says we'll be at our destination within the next twenty-four hours."

"You know," Darvix said as he looked up at Kasari, "if things had been different… our relationship would probably have become much closer."

"I know, Dap," Kasari said with a small smile, "but things are the way they are for a reason."

Nodding, Darvix stood as well, glancing at Kasari for a moment. Neither one of them were much in the mood for words anymore. All that needed to be said had been said. The only thing left were actions that held far more meaning than words ever could. Darvix reached forward and held Kasari's chin between his thumb and index finger. Without so much as a whisper, he closed his eyes and leaned forward pressing his lips to hers. The two remained locked in place for a long while. To them, it felt like only a few fleeting moments.

"Just because things are the way they are now," Darvix said, "doesn't mean that the future will continue that status quo…The Galaxy is forever changing, even if we're too stubborn to change with it."

Quietly, Darvix left the mess hall, leaving Kasari behind. She realized that Darvix was right, and perhaps that was another one of his so-called truths of the Galaxy. No one was immune from the ebbs and flow of change, not even one Darvix Zorvan. Finally, she was beginning to understand what Master Skywalker had seen in Darvix all those years ago. Darvix was an incredibly flawed, but incredibly insightful man. Most of all, he was a teacher who wanted only the best for those below him.

Perhaps that was why Kasari was in love with him.

***

* * *

As Darvix stared through the forward viewport, he could feel every muscle in his body tensing. Three years spent entirely in hyperspace was about to come to an end. If the information that he had found on Lehon was correct, they would soon be seeing an ancient space station; the last known resting place of Darth Revan and the Exile. If the information was erroneous, then the last three years would have been utterly wasted. His hands tensed around the arm rests of his command chair.

"Reversion to real-space in two minutes," Vik said from his seat at the astrogations console.

"It all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Kasari asked.

"I suppose it does," Darvix mused. "Feels like we're going all-in with a lousy hand of Sabacc cards."

"I prefer Pazaak," Vik replied.

"Of course you do," Darvix said. "You have the single worst Sabacc face in the known Galaxy."

"Perhaps," Vik admitted as he glanced at the chronometer on his console.

Darvix leaned back in his seat again. A sense of uneasiness and fear was beginning to creep into him. As they moved closer and closer to their target, his anxiety levels increased. As he stretched out with the Force, Darvix could feel the all-too familiar presence of the Dark Side. Was it the shadows of Darth Revan and the Exile? Probably, but what if it was something else entirely?

"Dap," Kasari said, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Me too," Darvix said in turn. "Something isn't right here."

"You'd better figure it out quick," Vik responded. "Reversion to real-space in ten seconds."

The black and blue of hyperspace suddenly gave way. For the first time in three years, the viewports were filled with the dotted black of real-space. Darvix couldn't deny that seeing open space again was refreshing. Prolonged time in the tunnels of hyperspace always made him feel somewhat claustrophobic. Darvix glanced down at the console in front of him, bringing up the forward sensor readouts. The coordinates were right, but was the station here?"

"Reading a large structure about fifty clicks from here," Kasari said. "Showing active life-support systems in place."

"Strange that there's a station out here in the middle of nowhere," Vik said. "No signs of any nearby planets. This thing's all alone."

"Bring us in," Darvix said. "Looks like there's a hanger bay entrance that's sealed off…There is a docking module on the far side, however. Let's see if it still works."

***

* * *

With the Tatooine Gallows docked to the station, the three travelers ventured through the airlock to step foot on the station that was perhaps the final resting place of the notorious Darth Revan and Jedi Exile. They had entered into what appeared to be a storage area, filled with empty crates and containers. The moment Darvix set foot in the room, red emergency lights dimly lit the area. Darvix made his way towards a door at the other side of the room, carefully stepping over stray boxes along the way.

"This place gives me the creeps," Vik said, blaster in hand. "I'm half expecting some reanimated corpse to appear out of the shadows and go for my brains."

"Been watching those cheap horror flicks again?" Darvix asked as he reached the door's control panel. "I told you to lay off them. I'm not going to hold your hand again if you have another nightmare while you're sleeping... Besides, we all know the reanimated corpses would go for my brain matter first."

Darvix began making his way towards what he believed to be the direction of the station's hanger. If the holovideo he had seen on Lehon was to be believed, Darth Revan's flagship freighter would be resting there, waiting for his arrival. The hallways, like the room they had arrived in, were marginally lit, giving the entire station an aura of mysteriousness. Even Darvix couldn't deny the fact that he was starting to feel edgy.

"Dap, you want to take a look at this?" Vik said.

Darvix walked towards Vik, who was standing in front of an open supply closet. Within it, Darvix could see what looked to be a primitive protocol droid. The droid's skeleton was brownish in color, but other than that, the droid did not appear to be that old. It almost appeared to resemble a modern combat droid. Tilting his head to the side, Darvix moved towards the droid, attempting to find a way to power it on. Behind the droid's neck, Darvix could feel a switch of some sort. Without hesitating, the flipped the switch. Suddenly, the droid's eyes lit up with a blood red glow and its head snapped to attention.

"Query: Who are you, organic meatbag?" The droid asked.

Darvix blinked and stared at the droid a moment before responding, "My name is Darvix Zorvan. You might know me as the Descendant."

"Exasperated acknowledgement: I was afraid of that, I was hoping you wouldn't show up for a few thousand more years."

"Care to tell me who you are?" Darvix asked. "As well as an explanation of what a relatively modern droid is doing in an uninhabited space station that is thousands of years old?"

"Resigned explanation: I am HK-47, a Hunter-Killer assassination droid constructed by Darth Revan during the Mandalorian War," The droid explained. "Further explanation: My AI has existed for thousands of years, but transferred from body to body during that time as I drifted through the Galaxy. I ventured back to this location shortly after the event you organic meatbags call the 'Battle of Yavin.'"

"Can you lead us to the Ebon Hawk?" Darvix asked.

"Observation: I see that you have brought other meatbags with you," The droid said. "Question: Would you like me to kill them before leading you to the Ebon Hawk?"

"That will be quite alright, HK-47," Darvix replied.

"Resigned acknowledgement: Very well. Follow me, Meatbag."

***

* * *

Darvix could only stare in amazement. There, in the middle of the hanger was Darth Revan's flagship: The Ebon Hawk. She was a Dynamic-class star freighter, the YT-1300 Corellian transport of the Mandalorian War era. Nearly four-thousand years old, and it was still in one piece. The hull was covered in blaster scoring, showing off the many battles that it had no doubt been through. The saucer-shaped ship had no doubt been a valuable companion to Revan through the years of its service. Hopefully, somewhere on board the ancient freighter would be the records Darvix had spent ten years searching for.

"She's beautiful," Darvix said.

"What a piece of junk!" Kasari said, exasperated. "We came all the way here for this?"

"Indignant defense: The Ebon Hawk was the fastest freighter in the Republic," HK-47 explained. "Veiled insult: It is perhaps too difficult for your organic meatbag brain to comprehend the marvels of this ship."

"You know, I'm starting to like this droid," Darvix said. "Your pension for insults is remarkable."

"Grateful acknowledgement: Thank you, organic meatbag."

Dap took a step toward the Ebon Hawk before freezing in place. Beneath the ship, he saw the outline of what appeared to be a human figure. Darvix felt a cold hand clutch his heart as he heard the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber in the distance, followed by the appearance of a red blade. They weren't alone.

"Why didn't you tell me someone else was on this station?" Darvix demanded.

"Explanation: You didn't ask, meatbag," the droid replied.

Darvix swore aloud and looked back at Kasari and Vik, "Stay back. Vik, if Kasari tries to help, shoot her in the leg."

"Request: May I take that honor, meatbag?" HK-47 asked.

"Shut up!" Darvix yelled as he approached the figure standing beneath the Ebon Hawk. "I am Jedi Master Darvix Zorvan, a representative of the Jedi Order of the New Republic. I do not wish to engage in combat with you, stranger."

A low, gravelly voice responded to him, "I am Darth Bane, follower of the True Sith Order. I know precisely who you are, Descendant."


	22. Redemption of the Exiles

_Author's note: A big thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic. On Friday, November 6th I will post the introduction and prologue of the final fic in this trilogy arc, X-Wing: Resurrection of a Rogue. _

**Chapter 20 - Redemption of the Exiles**

"That's impossible!" Darvix snapped. "Darth Bane has been dead for a thousand years!"

The cloaked figure approached Darvix, lightsaber still active, "I was a follower of Darth Revan's teachings. When I learned of the True Sith through his works, I ventured to this space to learn more. Instead of finding the knowledge of the Sith, I learned that Revan was a traitor to our cause. Furthermore, I learned of his last prophecy: a descendant of Darth Revan's closest aide who would bring the knowledge of Revan's treachery back to the Republic. This is something I cannot allow to happen."

"So you've been keeping yourself alive through the Force for a thousand years," Darvix noted, "just for a chance to kill me? It'll be a shame for all this time to go to waste, old man."

"The knowledge held by Darth Revan and the Exile poses a tremendous risk to the True Sith," Darth Bane replied as he inched closer to Darvix. "Revan's prophecy spoke of you: you would be the one to deliver this information into the hands of the Jedi who is said to be the one that will create the new Jedi Order. Your very existence endangers the Sith, Descendant. For that, you shall die by my lightsaber!"

Kasari watched in horror as the Sith Lord lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing an extraordinarily deformed human face. The man's eyes glowed an inhuman yellow. It was clear that Darth Bane had become completely corrupted by the Dark Side of the Force. Without warning, he lunged at Darvix. In one lightning quick movement, Darvix eluded the attack. Kasari heard the sound of two lightsabers coming to life. Both were in Darvix's hands. One blade was a deep emerald green, much like Master Skywalkers. She immediately recognized that lightsaber being the one he had built shortly after becoming a Jedi Master. The other was a color she had never seen before in a lightsaber: an orange as vibrant as a Tatooine sunset. Darvix stood in a low crouch, both blades extended away from his body. It was the first time she had ever seen Darvix using the weapon of the Jedi.

"Stay back!" Vik ordered. "You're just going to get in his way!"

Kasari ignored Vik, immediately reaching for her lightsaber. Vik grabbed a hold of her, wrapping his arms around her to keep Kasari from assisting Darvix, "He's going to be killed!"

"Don't sell him short!" Vik said. "This is Darvix in his element."

As Darth Bane lunged forward again, Darvix managed to elude him, deflecting the red lightsaber blade with one of his own. He called upon the Force to speed his movements up. His blade technique had always relied on pure speed. Darvix had never been the strongest dueler, but what he lacked in strength he made up for in speed and technique. He skirted around Darth Bane's attacks, parrying each movement with precision accuracy. Every now and then, he would sneak in a thrust of his own, only to have it brushed off. Darvix couldn't help but feel that he was in over his head. Despite his speed, Darth Bane seemed to be matching his every movement. He had to find a weakness in his attack and fast.

"You're slowing down, old man!" Darvix yelled at his opponent as he brushed off another attack.

"You're arrogance will be the end of you!" Darth Bane spat. "You cannot appreciate the strength the Dark Side lends me!"

"That's where you're wrong!" Darvix said. "I've reveled in its presence. I know it is nothing more than a crutch for your foolhardy ambitions!"

Darvix motioned as if he were going to move to the left, but suddenly broke right. Darvix thrust the orange lightsaber in his left hand towards Darth Bane, who responded by attempting to parry it away. Darvix couldn't help but grin, he had fallen for his trap. He quickly performed a backflip, thrusting his right hand forward. As the green lightsaber blade moved in a circular arc with Darvix, it sliced through Darth Bane's arm, severing it from his body. He quickly recovered and lunged at his assailant, thrusting both blades through his torso before moving them outwards and away from the initial penetration. With a thud, Darth Bane fell to the floor. The upper part of his body landed in one spot, while his severed waist and legs landed in another.

"I'll see you in hell," Darvix said between breaths as he turned off his lightsabers.

Darvix collapsed to the floor, allowing both lightsaber hilts to fall to the ground. As he lay there trying to catch his breath, he could hear Kasari and Vik rushing towards him. Darvix rolled onto his back and looked up at his two worried companions. Somehow, he managed a smile. His two companions wrapped him in an embrace, thankful that he had not been killed at the hands of a long-forgotten Sith Lord.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I'm a little out of shape."

"Snide observation: It seems that your meatbag companions care for you deeply," HK-47 said as it approached them. "Query: Are you sure you don't want me to kill them?"

"I thought I told you to shut up," Darvix groaned. "Why don't you get us into the Ebon Hawk now?"

"Resigned acknowledgement: Oh very well, meatbag," HK-47 replied. "Statement: This beeping trash-compactor will lower the entry ramp for you."

Darvix glanced to the side of HK-47, where what appeared to be a four-legged utility droid was staring at them. The droid issued a series of electronic beeps as it looked directly at Darvix.

"Explanation: This is T3-M4, a utility droid that Master Revan insisted on keeping," HK-47 explained. "Direction: Please follow the droid to the Ebon Hawk."

Darvix stood and glanced at the small droid for a moment before following it to the freighter. The droid engaged one of its mechanical arms and inserted it into a socket beneath the Ebon Hawk, causing the entry ramp to lower to the ground. Part of Darvix was amazed that the hydraulics on this ship still worked after all the years it had laid dormant. Darvix was unsure about how he was feeling as he slowly walked up the ramp. Ten years of searching for answers was finally going to bear fruit. Was he relieved? Was he anxious? He wasn't sure.

He had entered into what appeared to be a utility area. Along one wall was an old swoop bike. Darvix doubted it was still functional. Nearby were empty work benches and storage crates. He slowly walked towards the center of the ship, coming to a stop at what appeared to be the crew lounge. There were some old seats and a holoprojector, all of which had remained unused for four-thousand years. Darvix continued further, walking past the empty crew quarters and hyperdrive bay. He glanced briefly at the cockpit of the freighter, the controls dark and lifeless. Long ago, this had likely been an active place, where both Revan and the Exile spent countless hours and days. What had they done here? What were they thinking about as they sat in these seats?

Shaking his head, Darvix retreated from the cockpit, running his hand along the cold durasteel walls of the ship's interior. As he backtracked his steps, he noticed a door that he had missed earlier. Darvix stepped towards it, raising his hand to key the door's control. He hesitated for a moment. Every fiber in his being told him that what he was looking for was beyond this door, hidden within this room. Was he ready to take this information in? Was he ready to finally have the question that had been bothering him for nearly fifteen years answered? He took an unsteady breath before finally opening the door.

Within the room Darvix spotted only two things. The first was a computer terminal, still humming and active. The second was a large tube with a transparent cover. Darvix slowly approached the tube, pausing a few moments before finally looking through its cover. Within it were the pristinely preserved remains of a woman. She looked to have been in her mid forties when she had finally died. Her black hair spilled around her nude form. Darvix didn't need to search for information to know exactly who this was: The Jedi Exile, Darth Revan's most trusted aide. Darvix glanced at the entrance of the room, where both Vik and Kasari stood.

"It looks like she was wounded badly," Darvix said quietly. "She probably placed herself in hibernation so she could die a painless death."

As Darvix stared at the deceased Jedi Exile, the nearby computer terminal came to life. Darvix glanced at the screen, surprised to see a video of the Jedi Exile. Was this taken just prior to her death?

"Greetings, Descendant," the Exile said. "It seems a little odd to greet you like that…Perhaps an explanation is in order, if you haven't already figured it out."

Darvix turned towards the screen, his jaw slightly dropped. Why hadn't this clicked before now? Suddenly it all made sense.

"Prior to our deaths, Revan revealed one final prophecy. He spoke of a descendant of my lineage who would carry out one final mission for us. I suppose it goes without saying that Revan was speaking of you. He shared this prophecy with the inhabitants of the Taris Promised Land, saying that my descendant would arrive one day to free them of their bonds and allow them to return to the surface. The prophecy stated that you would rediscover the Star Maps and locate Revan's final message on Lehon. Ultimately, that would lead you to my final resting place, the Ebon Hawk.

"It was prophesized that you would recover the information hidden within this ship's computers and return it to the Jedi Master who will create the new Jedi Order. I am sorry that this knowledge has been hidden from you, for I know that it has likely caused you great hardship and strain for a long while. We simply could not allow anyone other than yourself to find the information within this ship."

Darvix motioned for Vik to access the ship's computers and record logs. The data was here, now they just needed to make a copy of it.

"The history texts have likely branded myself and Revan as exiles," the woman continued. "No doubt the truth of our existences has been lost to both time and the meddling of corrupt individuals. You must know that there is much more to our story than you could have ever imagined. The records aboard this ship tell the truth about us, but perhaps you would like to hear them in my own words.

"No doubt you know that Revan was a Dark Lord of the Sith. After defying the Jedi Council's orders and leading the Republic's charge against the Mandalorians, Revan disappeared into unknown space, only to return years later as Darth Revan. What you do not know, however, is that it was not Revan, but his apprentice Darth Malak who led the insurgents during the Jedi Civil War.

"Darth Revan had been captured by a young Jedi named Bastila Shan, who worked tirelessly to turn Revan away from the Dark Side. She succeeded, and Revan returned to the ranks of the Jedi once more. Revan would fight alongside the Republic and the Jedi against Darth Malak and his Star Forge, and it would be he who would slay Darth Malak and destroy his superweapon. Revan was a redeemed Jedi who had gone from being the Sith Lord himself to the savior of the Galaxy."

"As for myself," The Exile was beginning to look weaker and weaker in the video, "I was one of Revan's most trusted Generals during the Mandalorian War. After the war was over, Revan and his followers left to the unknown reaches of the Galaxy. That is, all of his followers except for myself. I returned to the Republic and to the Jedi Council to face punishment for defying their orders. I was stripped of my connection to the Force and branded an Exile. They feared that my actions would influence others to follow me. They feared that I would destroy the Jedi Council's status quo.

"They had been wrong to refuse assistance to the Republic during the Mandalorian War. That is why I defied their orders and joined Revan's forces. Many followed my example, and this was the true reason they feared me. I was a threat to the established manner in which the Jedi handled their affairs. As such, I accepted their punishment and went into exile, wandering the Outer Rim for years. I was in exile while Revan returned to the Light Side to save the Republic. I was in exile after Revan vanished after the Battle of the Star Forge. By the time I returned to Republic Space, the Jedi had all but been wiped out. In my ensuing journeys I discovered several force-sensitive individuals who I trained as Jedi in a way that I saw fit.

"Not long after my return, I discovered the existence of a Sith academy in the ruins of Malachor V, the system that I single handedly destroyed while I was in the service of Revan. It was the pupils of this Academy that were responsible for the destruction of the Jedi while I was in exile. I confronted Darth Traya there and killed her, destroying the Academy as I departed. Once more, I returned to the Republic where I began work on rebuilding the Jedi Council."

"It was then that I married one of my companions and apprentices, a Jedi named Atton Rand," the Exile continued. "We had a son together…It was shortly after her birth that Revan came into my existence once more. T3-M4, the utility droid who allowed you to enter this ship, had tracked me down several years earlier and assisted me in my quest to destroy Darth Traya's academy. He informed me of where Revan had disappeared to after the Battle of the Star Forge.

"With a heavy heart, I left my husband and son behind to pursue Revan. I finally found him years later, deep in the heart of Sith territory. He had discovered the True Sith, adherents of the Dark Side that existed for millennia before the ancient Sith Empire. We learned that they were going to invade the Republic and destroy the Jedi once and for all. It became our mission to end that threat, and to destroy the True Sith Empire. Little did we know that we were doomed from the start.

"Revan was killed, and I was badly wounded…This is why I am making this recording for you to view. I do not have much time left. What I am about to tell you is of the utmost importance, and is information that you must carry home with you."

Darvix felt his heart skip a beat.

"Though we failed in our mission to destroy the True Sith, we managed to deliver to them a crippling blow. I do not know how long that they will be held at bay, but understand this: they still exist. They bide their time for the opportune moment to engage in one last strike. You must be prepared to fight when the time comes. There will be one final battle of good and evil that will shape the Galaxy for eternity. Succeed, and the Galaxy shall enter a new state of being that is so wondrous it cannot be described in words. The Force shall cease to exist as we know it, and all sentient life will be as one.

"Fail and the repercussions shall be felt far beyond our Galaxy. Lifeforms and beings that we have never met, have never known existed shall suffer because of our failure. You cannot let this happen. You must hurry; take this information back to your people. There is more at stake than you can possibly comprehend."

The woman offered a weak smile, "If nothing else, please…do this for both Revan and myself. We have both committed atrocious crimes in our pasts, and we have done our best to atone for them…If this information can save as many lives as we took away, than perhaps we, the Exiles of the Jedi and Republic, can finally taste redemption."

"Do not despair," she continued. "There are many great trials ahead for your people, but the reward for facing them and succeeding are wondrous. Let the Jedi be your spearhead. Teach them to be proactive. It will be them who lead the charge in the great and final battle."

"Revan told me in his prophecy that you would take the name of my son," the Exile said with a faint smile. "He has never lead me astray…I fear that I cannot continue, for I am growing too weak. I must bid you farewell, young Darvix. May the Force be with you."

With that, the screen faded to black. Darvix stood in a stupor. This was more profound than anything he had ever hoped to discover. The True Sith? The real Revan and Exile? In just those few minutes, a lost piece of history came back into view. It was both frightening and encouraging. What Darvix had discovered could only be called this: the last prophecy of the Exiles. This prophecy contained far more than just potential salvation for the Galaxy, it contained something far more intimate to him:

The redemption of the Exiles.

"Darvix, look," Kasari meekly said, pointing at the cylinder the Exile's body was in. Or was in. The body was now gone, as if it had never been there to begin with.

"She's finally become one with the Force," Darvix said. "As has Revan, no doubt."

Darvix and Kasari exited the Ebon Hawk, where Vik and the two droids waited for them.

"Request: Please leave this station soon," HK-47 said. "Explanation: We have one last task to complete for our Master."

"You're going to destroy this station, aren't you?" Darvix asked.

"Acknowledgement: That is correct, meatbag," the droid replied. "Explanation: This was the final task laid out before myself and T3-M4. This information cannot fall into the wrong hands."

"We will leave immediately," Darvix said. "May I make one request?"

"Annoyed inquiry: What might that be?"

Darvix reached to his belt and pulled off one of his lightsabers, placing it in the droid's hand, "If you ever see the Exile in whatever netherworld you might end up in, return this to her. Tell her it has served her family faithfully for many generations."

Darvix glanced down at the shorter utility droid, "You've served your masters well for many years now. I'm certain they both are thankful for the work you have done."

With that, Darvix turned on his heels and retreated towards the Tatooine Gallows. It was time to go home. As Darvix walked away from the Ebon Hawk, he spotted two glowing, blue figures near the ship.

It was Revan and the Exile.

***

* * *

Darvix watched through the viewport as the station burst into a ball of flame, destroying the Ebon Hawk and the information hidden within it. The only copy that existed of that data was safely in Darvix's possession now. Darvix spun around in his command chair to look at his two traveling companions. The information they had recovered had detailed the existence of numerous companions that both Revan and the Exile had worked with during their lives. They had been integral parts of their success. Just like the Exiles, Darvix knew that without both Kasari and Vik, he couldn't have come this far.

"I suppose it turns out we were wrong about the Exiles, weren't we?" Kasari asked.

"All of us were wrong," Darvix admitted. "You, me, even Skywalker…It's amazing that both of these individuals, who could have been considered the ultimate villains at some point in their lives, both would sacrifice themselves to save us all."

"Now it's our turn," Vik said. "They died to buy us some time and save this information. What we do with it now will end up defining who we are as individuals…It will define who we are as a Galaxy."

"You know," Darvix mused, "ever since Skywalker told me about my blood connection to Atton Rand I held on to this misguided belief… When I was younger I danced with the Dark Side, I let it control me. I couldn't bring myself to admit that the terrible things I did as a result were my fault. Instead, I blamed my genetic relationship to Rand, who I was convinced was a corrupt Jedi."

"Instead you learned that both Revan and the Exile were redeemed and forgiven for their actions," Kasari said, "much like yourself. All three of you faced the bigger picture in front of you and changed your ways. The history texts will now show Revan and the Exile as heroes…Perhaps one day, they'll say the same about you, Darvix."

Darvix shook his head with a smile, "I hope not. I'd rather disappear into obscurity."

"We all know you want to die a glorious death that will earn you a golden statue somewhere," Vik chided.

"Yeah," Darvix grinned. "You're right. What do you say we head home? I'm itching to eat something Kasari hasn't burned for a change."

"Shut up, Dap," Kasari replied.

"Bring the communications array online. Send an outgoing message signaling we're on our way home."

"Communications coming online," Vik said. Moments later, a look of horror formed on his face, "…Dap, I'm looking at the communications backlog that's been stored in the passive databanks. We're being flooded with distress beacons."

"Where from?" Darvix asked, moving over to the console Vik was sitting at.

"Coruscant, Yavin IV, Corellia," Vik shook his head. "You name it; we've got a distress signal."

"We're a ways out; it must have taken ages for these distress calls to get to us over subspace frequencies," Dap said. "What's going on? Is it the Imperial Remnant?"

"It couldn't be the Sith, could it?" Kasari asked.

Vik shook his head, "They're calling it the Yuuzhan Vong."

_The Yuuzhan Vong? _"Set an immediate course for Coruscant," Darvix said.

"We're not going to make it for another three years," Vik said. "Who knows what will have happened by then."

Darvix frowned and turned on his heels, walking away from the bridge.

"Where are you going?" Kasari asked.

"Flight simulator," Darvix replied. "I'm going to need to brush up on an old skill."

Just like every other joyous moment in Darvix's life, the feeling of success he had been enjoying was short-lived. A crisis was apparently brewing at home, and he wasn't there. Still, he knew that he had much more important task than flying back to the known Galaxy to play hero. He had vital information that had to be delivered to Skywalker. Darvix prayed he was still alive to receive it. Darvix walked into the chamber that stored the flight simulator and picked up a flight helmet, quickly taking a seat within the simulation unit.

Before Darvix powered on the simulator, he paused to think for a short moment. A lot had happened over the last ten years. He had gotten into more trouble than he cared to remember, but he had accomplished a great deal. For the first time in his life, Darvix confronted a challenge and succeeded. The mystery of Darth Revan and the Exile had been solved. Not only that, he had discovered what could be called a plan of salvation for the Galaxy. Still, despite all he had done and the great lengths he had traveled, there were still questions left to be answered. What could the Exile have meant when she said that if the Jedi succeeded, the Force would cease to exist as they knew it? What would be the reward for finally defeating the Sith?

Perhaps at one point in time, Darvix would have been frustrated by not having these deep questions answered. Now, Darvix was satisfied knowing that he had done something of extraordinary importance. Predestined or not, he had taken part in a grand plan that could save the lives of countless people. It was far from complete, and his work was far from done, but he had played a part in it. Perhaps after this he would become just another bit-role player. He may never take part in the grand battle to destroy the Sith. Still, he knew that there was far more for him to do before all was said and done. For now, he could rest easy knowing that he had finally done something to atone for his many mistakes of the past.

Like the Exiles he had chased for a decade, Darvix had finally achieved redemption.

**REDEMPTION OF THE EXILES**

**PART II OF THE "DAP ZORVAN" TRILOGY **

**THE END**

**~*~**

**_Darvix Zorvan will return in X-WING: RESURRECTION OF A ROGUE_**


End file.
